Liminality
by Conpostus
Summary: This is my attempt at a Modern Girl in Thedas troupe that does not have a termagant as the lead. Because being brash and loud is not necessarily the same thing as being strong, and in this story Jolina is able to find strength through thoughtfulness and the support of our resident spirit-turned-young man.
1. Chapter 1

**Liminality**

Chapter 1: Rites of Separation

* * *

Jolina sat on her assigned cot and pulled on her boots. They were made of a sturdy leather, if caked with mud, but she hated how constricting they felt around her ankles. At least the inside was still dry and warm. Next came her hat, the drawstring pulled up to her chin. Skin slightly glistening from bug-repellent and too much sun-screen, teeth brushed, she felt as ready as she could be.

She left the tent and gave to small smile to the professor who had elected to oversee their field study, Dr. Emerson, who was gathering tools inside of a canvas bag. He smiled and nodded in return, and gestured silently to some equipment to his right. Jo nodded and bent down the grasp the handle, while swinging her backpack on with her other hand.

As they walked to the dilapidated ruin, Jo marveled that she was there. Trees so high she couldn't see the top, massive roots erupting from the ground, the sound of the black howler monkey calling out in the distance. It had taken an entire year her first year at the University to figure out what she wanted to do, but one Anthropology class later and she was set. Every class after had felt right; easy to understand, fascinating to read about, and left her with a deep appreciation for history, cultural diversity, and a thirst for more knowledge. It didn't matter what subfield. Socio-cultural anthropology, biological anthropology, archaeology, or linguistics. It was all fascinating.

She had jumped at the summer field school opportunity in Belize. The prospect to see the past in person, to make new discoveries, to travel. The anxiety of her situation had caught up with her in the airport, and amidst boarding the crowded airplane had prompted a panic attack. She was guided through her hyperventilation by a patient fly attendant, and then left to appreciate the ground from above.

Now that she was there, the vegetation protecting her, new places to explore, Jo felt her anxiety ease as curiosity pushed her forward.

The rest of the group was already at the site, several setting up equipment, other staking up strings marking the barrier of the caved-in tunnel they were in the middle of excavating. Only a few feet at a time, each new discovery's location carefully marked. It was painstaking work, but her first archaeology class had taught her the importance of patience while doing this kind of research. To excavate was to destroy the site, so everything needed to be recorded in the case that new understandings were reached later in time.

The individuals in the group largely ignored her. That wasn't a surprise, and by now just the act of fulfilling her expectations was calming. Consistency amidst the unpleasantness.

At least they weren't bullying her. Her disposition often made her into a victim; she was very quiet and obviously unsure about herself. Anxious and neurotic. A perfectionist. Curious and bright, but alienated from her peers as she struggled to understand how to communicate with them. She just didn't seem to have a lot in common with them. She didn't drink. She enjoyed doing homework. And she felt uncomfortable with all of the touching- the little nudges, handshakes, fist-pumps, and hugs that everyone seemed to engage in almost subconsciously.

Jo felt uncomfortable around them, and they could tell. She had tried to speak on several occasions, but every time she tried, it didn't come out the way she had intended, and people were either offended or laughed at her. And a girl without friends, a girl ostracized, seemed to be the perfect girl to torment.

But here they were professionals-in-training. Or so she hoped. Unfortunately, those hopes were dashed rather quickly.

A couple hours in, Jo quietly informed one of the boys that she needed to use the restroom, when he happily told her that the location had been moved. He walked her further into the complex, and reassured her that there was a break in the hallway a-ways down and to the right. She gave him a small smile to thank him for his assistance, but felt paranoid when his grin grew larger. She looked back and saw a couple of girls watching and listening, but they did nothing to refute him, so she bounded down the ancient hallway.

She heard snickering behind her, and felt a kind of dread settle into her stomach, but she didn't want to assume. The boy had never done anything to her before, and she knew she had a tendency to pessimistically misinterpret actions. They deserved the benefit of the doubt unless she could prove otherwise.

However, as she turned to the right, she quickly saw that there was no break to the wall. It just kept going, getting darker and darker. She briefly considered heading back, but knew that if she did they would all laugh at her. Wanting the avoid the humiliation, she took a match out of her bag and lit the end of a large stick that was sitting in the middle of the hallway.

And with that little bit of light, she trudged forward.

She saw signs of previous excavations as she walked, and was torn between appreciating the history and acknowledging some forlorn feeling that rose in her about what was lost. It was then that she felt it. Or heard it. If whispers could be felt. Far away, muted, but almost melodious. She crept forward cautiously, anxious to find the source of the mutterings, if just to appease her irrational fears. She went as far as the end of a hallway before she could go no further, the stone protruding out strangely.

Jo frowned and sighed, disappointed as she tried to mentally ready herself to return, but slipped on a loose stone as she was turning. She was flung back, gravity assisting as her arms flailed behind her and her stick dropped, the small flame went out with a hish sound. Her back fell against the rocks, but her momentum pushed and she fell through the wall behind her. Her head smacked on the ground in a jarring thud, and it took several minutes for Jo to sit up. Her back felt slick, pain pulsing, and nausea forced her to even her breathing and take slow, even breaths. She opened her eyes to darkness, and had to swallow the fear that threatened to engulf her as she felt around. Her stick was missing.

Shuddering, Jo began crawling forward on the stone, avoiding debris through feel as the whispers and feeling of anticipation (or was it dread?) got louder. Her hand scrapped unpleasantly on the edge of a piece of metal, and Jo clenched her fist through the sting as she cautiously stood. Her pace was slow as she nudged the ground ahead of her with the tip of her boots, slowly trudging around a hallway. There was a door, and the whispers had become mutters. She pushed on the door, feeling the blood on her hand smear the engraving as she heaved, and fell into an atrium lit a sickly green as the door swung inwards.

Jo stood for several minutes in astonishment. There was a hole in the air in front of her, outlined in green, which crackled with energy almost as if it were emitting electricity. She frowned because of what it reminded her of- the rifts she had seen playing Dragon Age: Inquisition. It looked the same color, the same shape, but that was impossible, right? She doubted the writers of the series had excavated ruins and traveled to different worlds in order to find inspiration for the series.

She took several steps closer, curiosity propelling her forward. Her glance quickly darted around on the incredible off-chance that demons were present, feeling paranoid again, but the room was silent except for the voices emitting from the green tear of space. Another step, and then another. She tried to peer inside when a hand reached out of the space and grabbed onto the front of her shirt, pulling her through.

* * *

When she came to, Jo was fairly convinced she was dreaming. Rocks were held suspended in the air, light reflected oddly distorting the air, and she could _feel_ strange things. The whispers had turned into emotions, wants, dreams, desires, fears, and the voices threatened to overwhelm her. She looked up and saw more green illuminating in a distorted impression of a sky. The ground was murky and indistinct. Some of the stone shimmered red, and Jo wrapped her arms around herself in terror.

She scooted back, startled, as she saw what she knew to be demons in the distance. They seemed so angry, an embodiment of the emotion, negative energy swirling as their feelings screamed. Jo started shaking.

A hand was pressed into her shoulder, and Jo whimpered softly as she turned to see what had held her. It was a woman entirely in black, but her eyes glowed with understanding.

"There is no need to be frightened."

It was not the words which Jo understood so much as it was the sentiment behind it. She forced herself to take deep breaths through the panic and anxiety, clutching her knees. "Where am I?" Jo breathed. She found if she focused on the woman next to her, the other voices were softer and less insistent.

The woman's head tilted curiously. "What an odd language. Although I understand your meaning. You are in what they call the Fade."

The last word stuck out, despite Jo's lack of ability to hear the language. She had pronounced it like fee-aid, the d receiving a majority of the emphasis, but Jo knew. The fade. So it really was like Dragon Age. How utterly terrifying. "Who are you?" It seemed the appropriate thing to say.

The woman spoke, but Jo didn't understand what she said. The woman frowned, and spoke several more sentences. Jo continued to stare blankly.

Finally, the woman's lips pursed and she let go of Jo's shoulder only to hold out her hands. Jo looked from the black outstretched fingers to her own hand in apprehension. The woman waited patiently as Jo gathered the courage to grasp the woman's hands, mentally prepared to feel the shudder of repulsion that usually followed contact. It did not come. Jo looked up in surprise, and saw the woman stare at her in concentration.

She spoke some more, but nothing happened. The woman once again frowned, before speaking some more. Jo thought she picked up the word will. Or something that sounded like will. And then tried to critically consider her situation, rather than stare blankly.

From what she remembered from the game, spirits in the Fade simply had to will things to be in order for things to happen. Anything could come into being or change merely from will alone. So what was this woman (Jo thought she might be a spirit) trying to get her to do? Jo grasped the hands, and tried to will herself the ability to understand her, but her doubts kept interceding. This was impossible. This was ridiculous. But she was already here, and she was already experiencing this, so what was to stop her? She mentally forced her doubt to subside, reaching for faith. Or hope. Instead she found desperation, but she used it all the same as she tried to will understanding.

And it seemed to work. The woman continued to speak, and slowly words were mussed apart until she understood entire sentences. "Little one, you need to think about trying to understand my language. You have to will it into being. I tried in your place, but it seems I cannot do it for you."

"It is fine," Jo stated, and the woman's eyes widened in surprise. "I apologize, who did you say you were again?"

The woman smiled. "Wisdom. This has proven to be an interesting encounter."

Wisdom? As in the spirit that Solas had attempted to save in the Exhaulted Plains? Jo frowned in worry, wondering how she could tell if this was, indeed, the spirit, and whether or not it would be appropriate to warn her.

The spirit shook her head. "Worry not what is to come. Things that are meant to happen will."

Jo frowned. No. That was not at all how she felt about the world. There was a cause and effect to everything, yes, but that did not mean certain things should be accepted. If history had taught her anything, it was the power of intervention. Surely devastation could be prevented? And was this attitude merely accepting that she, as an individual, did not have the power to interfere, or acknowledging the basis of pre-determination? Which had always made her exceedingly uncomfortable. How was she to accept life if she had to acknowledge that her choices were not really her own? And the possibility of using that to avoid any kind of accountability…

"My, such a busy mind. I am sure there is much we could discuss," the woman seemed pleased, smiling widely. Thus began one of many conversations Jo had with Wisdom about the nature and construction of the world.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: All rights to Dragon Age material belongs to Bioware and its affiliates.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Liminality**

Chapter 2- The Fade

* * *

There was no time in the fade, but Jolina felt as if she had been there for weeks. For days she and Wisdom discussed philosophical matters about the character of human nature, about whether or not there was a natural order to anything, and what powers existed that might try to maintain said order. They discussed rights, and government, and rationality. Jo was positive that she had never spoken this much to anyone in her entire life.

They began to move around after Jo had calmed enough to feel comfortable doing so. It became obvious that Wisdom knew exactly where to go in order to avoid Pride or Rage demons, and Jo slowly became less distrustful of the world around her. Wisdom then introduced her to other spirits that seemed, overall, benevolent in nature. Mercy had a laugh that reminded Jo of rain sprinkles. Valor's grip was strong as he led her over rickety planks serving as a bridge across two suspended rocks, amusement and good nature showing through a crooked smile. Faith was difficult to meet; she seemed to sense that Jo struggled a lot with the concept, and had no problem grabbing Jo's cheeks and stating, cheerily, "I believe in you. Even after you leave this place, you will go on to achieve great things. You will meet people who can accept you for who you are. You will find love."

Jo nodded doubtfully, and the group of them traveled together for a while. Wisdom explained it was because of the oddity of her presence. "Humans are not supposed to be able to be physically present within the Fade. To us, you are a curiosity. An impossibility. And a chance to help, which is usually only possible through dreams."

Jo saw very quickly what she meant. Dreamers existed as flickers of light that emitted such desperation. Fear. Anger. Hopelessness. She watched her new friends spring into action whenever they came across one, and they offered whispers of solace and strength. Jo wanted to help too, but she didn't know how.

Eventually she came across the dreamer of a little girl, who was afraid that her father would not come home from the war, would not be there to help her mother get better. Everyone was sick. Coughing spittle, blood, houses were barricaded and set aflame, screams piercing the night. The girl had fallen asleep exhausted from the fear that encompassed her small body. Jo crouched near the light, and not knowing what to say, sang a lullaby she had learned as a child. One that spoke of peace and safety and hope. The little girl seemed to hear her, her distress quieting, until the light blinked out. Happy that she had been comforted, but still upset from feeling the girl's distressing emotions, Jo looked up to see the group of spirits smiling encouragingly at her.

It was hard. Compassion and hope and faith. It was hard to see the pain and struggles present, the needless conflict and needless suffering. But she wanted so badly to help. Here, she felt as if she had a place, a purpose, a sense of belonging. People needed her. She wasn't judged and found unworthy. Jo clung to that, still reeling from the uncertainty as her life was uprooted.

They also came across human spirits that had already entered the fade, but that stood separate from the demons and separate from her friends. Ghosts, then? They did not seem to have a purpose, and did not seem to exude any one emotion. Instead, they simply existed and wallowed, incomplete and upset. Jo could not hear their thoughts like Wisdom, but she could feel their emotions and their circumstances, their whispers that pulled on her heart-strings. She attempted to intercede and comfort the ghosts, and was met with mixed success.

When the despair became too much for her, when the death and pain and anger of desperate fingers of shimmered light became too much to take, a spirit of Compassion appeared. She sobbed, clutching her forehead with taunt fingers, pulling at her dark brown hair, and was pulled into a pair of arms that seemed to understand her difficulties. There was warmth and solace, and when she finally looked up, spent but more at peace, Compassion smiled.

When the fear became too much, Valor had taken her aside and taught her to defend herself. Swords materialized, and it took what felt like days of practice before Wisdom reminded Jo that she could will herself into expertise. It was still a struggle to believe strongly enough to force the Fade to bend to her will, but Faith helped to work her through previous trauma. "They were wrong. The doubters knew nothing about you, not really. You can accomplish anything you want to."

Jo had questioned their static forms, which, while not exactly human, had many human characteristics. They explained that they were afraid to startle her, and had taken on forms they thought would be easier for her to accept. Jo had simply nodded, afraid to question too much. Afraid of change.

Lively debates continued, although Wisdom seemed to enjoy contemplating hypothetical situations far more than the rest. The rest were far more eager to help. After Jo had become proficient with a sword, they moved onto the bow, and then daggers. They eventually met Justice, who had suggested to Valor that she attempt magic.

After it became obvious that Jo had little to no faith in magic (and thus could not begin to imagine casting the simplest of spells), the spirits found a joint cause and rallied together to teach her. The cynicism and fear and pain from a lifetime of negative experiences worked against her desperation to please her new friends, and it wasn't until Hope glided in, impossibly graceful, that any progress was made. Even then, Jo was sure it was weeks before anything she cast felt in any way natural.

But still, she felt herself grow. Jo had become used to moving around the Fade, and now maneuvered through the space with ease, despite her physical form. She adapted to using her will in order to accomplish what was needed. And she became a stronger person, who she dearly hoped was able to embody some of the virtues of her friends.

* * *

It was during one of these evenings when they came across the visage of a young man. Clearly a spirit, he had given his life to the Templars only to find out that he had been ordered to cut down his mother. His mother, who Jo could feel had never caused any harm. Who had been cooperative in the circle. Remembering her caused pain and grief, but also rage, and Jo watched with fear and despair as the spirit of the young man became a rage demon. His eyes distorted, fingers grew into claws, and fire contorted around his body as it manifested his struggle.

Jo was shaken from the experience, and asked the spirits around her uneasily about corruption. Still afraid to be wrong, or say the wrong thing, she struggled to ask in a way that would convey her concern for their well-being. Wisdom looked at her in response and asked, with a familiar head-tilt, "What is pride?"

Jo thought about her answer. "Untempered self-absorption? Inordinate self-esteem?

Wisdom looked thoughtful. "Is that it?"

Jo thought critically of the word, and shook her head. "Only when it is held to the extreme. Pride can be justified? A necessary recognition of one's own skills and esteem that can give someone fulfilment and courage."

Wisdom smiled. "Fear?"

"Too much can lead to inaction or irrationality. But it can also strengthen relationships and encourage people to band together. It can encourage people to not take risks heedlessly."

"Rage?"

"Anger pushed to irrational limits. Without temperance it can lead to rash actions, mistakes, unnecessary death. But it is also an emotion that can spurn somebody to action, which could be to defend or protect."

Wisdom's smile grew as she nodded. "So you could argue that everything is necessary?"

Jo frowned. "I understand that everything has its place. But corruption isn't a matter of being and serving a purpose. It's a distortion of purpose. An imbalance. What would happen if you were to get pulled through the Fade?"

This was not a heedless concern. All of the spirits had begun to notice rifts opening throughout the Fade that seemed to suffocate space and prompt changes in the nature of the spirits surrounding it. Jo was aware of their caution, and the journey they were making towards an imperious palace of black that stood in the background.

Wisdom smiled. "What needs to happen will be."

Jo's frown deepened. "You know how I feel about that."

Wisdom smile remained as she blinked and looked away.

"Just remember the importance of temperance."

* * *

At some point during the travels, Jo had remembered her backpack, and had stopped to look inside of it anxiously. Please let it be okay, she chanted to herself as she grabbed the camera case and peered inside.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that nothing was cracked, and attempted to turn it on. The light blinked, and it turned on, and Jo felt almost irrationally happy. Curiosity overcame her, and she walked over to a ledge ignoring the attention from her group of spirits nearby. Ahead of her the view was as breathtaking as it was terrifying. A long expansion of cracked earth across a flat plain was all that was between us and the black palace, and the entire field was littered with large, glowing rifts. The green energy seemed to rise, slightly distorting the air above it. The sky glimmered almost threateningly. Jo snapped a couple of pictures once she could bring myself to stop staring in dread.

Jo anxiously looked back at the camera to see if it had saved. It had. She didn't know how to feel about that, before she turned around to face the spirits. "Do you mind if I take a picture?"

Once she had explained and showed them what a camera was, Valor was the first to offer himself up. The camera clicked, and an image appeared, but all that could be seen of the spirit was a dim outline of his form and face. Not the bodily image Jo was staring at over the top of the camera.

He demanded to see himself, and then laughed when she showed it to him. She snapped another at a pride demon against a backdrop of red stone, which took far better. Wisdom had nodded after Jo showed her the difference. "Relevance and prevalence. I suspect this is due to our limited interactions with humans."

Even so, Jo wanted something to remember them by. She had a strong feeling that her many new spirit friends were preparing to depart, anxious to reach out to more dreamers in need. She took out her sketchbook and colored pencils, and they looked at her with indulgent expressions as she drew. Looking up at Wisdom, the two shared quiet smiles.

* * *

Jolina got lost only once. She had stopped to pick up a letter, and it had taken a few minutes for her to will herself to understand the script. It had been heart wrenching, similar to many of her other experiences in the fade. A mother, a mage from the White Spire, had gotten pregnant from a Templar and made a mad dash in order to save the baby's life. She had escaped and was taken in by a sympathetic family long enough to have the child, but had been forced on the run as the baby's father noticed her absence and led a group of soldiers in the pursuit of her capture.

She had crouched in a ditch, desperate, but the baby wouldn't stop crying. The mother's fear flooded them both, and through her tears the woman had tried to silence the babe by placing her hand over his mouth. She hadn't realized that his nose was full of snot, suffering a cold from being exposed to the elements, and only a minute had passed before she noticed he wasn't breathing at all. She tried everything she could to get him to breathe, but when nothing worked, grief and guilt and torment had spiraled until she was screaming in agony.

The Templars had found her rather quickly after that, but holding the dead babe they assumed the worst and pierced into her with a blade.

The letter read like a suicide note, and Jo noticed the tears streaming down her eyes just about the same time she realized she was all alone.

She started up in panic, especially when she noticed a terror demon rapidly approaching in her direction. She had been about to will her daggers when she saw a floating ball of light dancing in the air in front of her.

"Are you a wi-, a wisp?" Jo had whispered through her tears.

The ball bounced an affirmative, and Jo felt hope grip her heart.

"Can you lead me to my friend Wisdom?"

Again the ball bounced. Jo turned and reverently placed the letter back on the stone whispering the woman's name. "Isabel." She then turned back towards the beautiful ball of light and gestured ahead of her with her fingers. The wisp understood, and bounded forward much more quickly than Jo had anticipated.

Before she knew it, she was sprinted through the fade, jumping over holes and clouds of dust the orb of light flew through, until she ran into a familiar group of spirits. They had anticipated her return, and each gave her a look that signaled strength. Jo grinned.

* * *

They had been traveling for some time, Jo stopping to take pictures or sketch things of interest at random intervals, when they were met by another traveler. But this was no transparent ghost, or embodiment of emotion. He wore a grey and green tunic top, breeches, and a necklace crafted from an animal jawbone. He was bald, with point ears, and a staff was strapped to his back. Even with so many recognizable features, it took a few minutes for Jo to remember Solas.

The reality of his presence seemed to crash into her. When she had first arrived she had been forced to consider the reality of Dragon Age, but time and space had separated that realization, so his presence came as something of a shock. He seemed equally surprised at her presence.

Neither spoke. Wisdom was watching them both with amusement. Solas took a step forwards, suddenly scowling, and Jo darted behind Valor, peeking over the spirit's shoulder hesitantly. Valor's laughter at being treated as a shield echoed the surrounded rocks, and he slowly turned and pushed her forward. She stared at the spirit incredulously. "I can't take him," she stated with wide-eyed certainty.

"You won't need to," he assured, pushing her forward towards the elf. Jo held her hands out in front of her, nervously picking on threads coming out of the bottom of her exposed tank top, as she brought her eyes up to meet his.

But Solas wasn't look at her. He addressed Wisdom in a language Jo didn't understand, but which she thought might be Elven. She tried to will understanding, but the conversation remained incomprehensible. Their interplay continued, and Jo grew steadily more anxious as time went on. Finally, he stopped to look at her.

"You shouldn't be here."

Jo felt her eyebrow raise at his tone. So? She was already here, and it is not as if she knew how to leave. After a few moments of silence Solas continued, "How long have you been here?"

Jo remained silent, still nervous in front of the elf, but confused because the question didn't make any sense. Time didn't seem to exist in this realm the same way it had in hers. How would she know what to tell him?

He seemed to realize, as he sighed. "My apologies. I am just surprised at your presence. But you need to leave. Humans are not supposed to spend time physically in the Fade."

Jo had planned to keep her mouth shut, until Wisdom prodded her with a black foot, an expectant expression on her face. Jo surrendered. "I do not know how to leave."

The elf frowned. "How did you get here?"

"I was pulled through a rift."

"And you never thought to try to go back through it?"

"Which one?" Jo was fairly certain that the rift she had first gone through had vanished. In fact, she didn't remember any rifts being present in the area that she first appeared in. And she was nervous to consider throwing herself into the holes at random. What if they led to different worlds? What if she got trapped in some kind of dystopian apocalypse?

The elf frowned, and then turned back to the band of spirits. "Thank you, but I can help her from here."

Jo frowned in consternation. She didn't want them to go. They were her friends. But before she could say anything, they had trotted over to her (or glided in Hope's case), said their farewells, and disappeared into the ether. Only Wisdom remained.

The disappointment and anger flared before Jo forced herself to acknowledge that they had been planning to leave soon anyways. It would be unfair to pin these emotions on an individual who seemed as though he was planning to help. Wisdom smiled brightly at her, as if proud and happy at her thought-process. Jo looked up at him, and he had grabbed his staff from his back and pointed into the field of rifts. The way he looked back at her made her think that the trepidation she felt inside was being advertised across her face. He held out his hand with a frown. Jo was uncertain, and afraid, but he waited much the same as Wisdom had until she reached forward to grasp his palm.

It took a rather long time for the elf to find the exact rift he was looking for. "There," he stated, "this one should be relatively close to our camp. Wait a few minutes after I leave before jumping so I can assure we are there to fight the demons off after you arrive."

Jo nodded, and the man disappeared. She turned back to Wisdom, and could not stop herself from flinging her arms around the woman. She looked back into her face. "I will never forget you," Jo stated, and Wisdom's smile stretched as she returned the hug. "Nor I you."

When she was released Wisdom disappeared much as the other spirits had, and Jo had to fortify herself with a deep breath as she stared into the pulsing green hole. Now or never. She charged, the memory of Valor's steel courage leading her through the hole. And then gravity reasserted itself without mercy, and Jo struggled to breath as her back and head erupted in pain.

Fuck.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware and its affiliates.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Liminality**

Chapter 3: Thedas

* * *

Jolina came to with a gasp and looked up, just in time to see the claws of a rage demon descending towards her head. She rolled, hissing as her back and head throbbed, and propelled herself into a crouch.

The world felt wrong. Too heavy. Too bright. Too loud. She instinctively tried to will herself a pair of daggers, but nothing appeared, and Jo was forced to jump out of the way as spikes of ice shot out of the ground in front of her. Slowly sound gained clarity, and she heard fighting- the clink of blades, the screams of demons, the grunts and yells of people. People.

People?

Her vision cleared and she saw a small group of people attacking the demons in earnest. She recognized Solas, his bald head gleaming in the sunlight, swinging a staff around his body in a way that seemed almost majestic. There was man decked out in heavy metal, wearing a helmet in the shape of the griffon, and swinging a large one-handed battle-axe. Jo could not help but spend a moment appreciating the fantastic facial hair. Blackwall, she thought to herself.

She looked for the Inquisitor, curious who it might be, and saw an eleven women yielding a sword, her left hand glowing slightly green. A female Lavellen, then? The woman's dark auburn hair swirled around her as she spun and flung her shield in the way of another bolt of ice, only to parry and send her sword through a demon's neck.

A figure darted in front of her and shoved her slightly to side, interrupting her moment of appreciation, and she saw a blur of a young man flip over the demon that had been about to attack her as he plunged twin daggers into the demon's back. It screamed in rage, but slowly dispersed into space, and Jo was able to more clearly see a wide-brimmed hat hiding shaggy blonde locks. His head lifted far enough that Jo was about to catch a pair of murky grey-blue eyes looking at her curiously.

He…

It was this that prompted her panic. He felt right and wrong at the same time. Pieces of her familiar Fade clung to him, but that is not what he was. Was not all he was. He was more than her spirit friends, and that difference seemed to highlight everything that was wrong with this world. The too-bright light of the sun overhead, the too-gritty feeling of sand pressing into her legs. The too-loud sounds of everything- birds chirping, trees rustling, people moving… She watched the Lavellan woman close the breach with an elegant twist of her hand and felt panic swamp her senses.

The connection was gone. She assumed the familiarity of the Fade coming in through the Rift had left her with a few moments of reprieve, but now that it was gone… She struggled to breath, pulling at her hair. This couldn't be real. Why was she here? She didn't want to be here. Just when she had been able to create some feelings of companionship. Just when she was getting used to the conversations. Their strength, their comfort, their presence. She couldn't do it without them. She thought she might be strong, that they might have made her into more than she was, but now she knew. She was never meant to be anyone in particular. She was never meant to accomplish anything. She was meant to die, insignificantly, just as billions had before her.

Tears fell as she hyperventilated, the wrongness and hopelessness pervading her senses. But her breaths didn't seem to be enough, and soon she was gasping. Someone pushed her hands from her face, and she dug her fingernails into her forearms in an attempt to _feel_ something. Pain was something, right? She gripped harder, and blood pooled underneath her fingernails, before someone made a noise of disapproval and tried to grab her hands from her arms.

No. It felt wrong. Just as wrong as she was used to people feeling, but it hadn't felt like this in the Fade. She had forgotten how it felt when touch seemed to inspire shivers and claustrophobia and disgust. She started shaking as sobs turned into moans of pain, and then terrified shrieks. She heard people around her arguing, dragging things through dirt. Light was everywhere. Sound was everywhere. Too much, too much, too much…

She was lifted and carried for a few steps, and then set down somewhere dark. Her bag was removed from her back and set down on the ground beside her. The sounds were muted. A warm pair of arms came around her small, shaking frame, and all Jo could think was 'Compassion'. He started humming as more broken sobs burst forth as that thought led to her current predicament.

'I am alone.'

"No. You're not," a voice responded, a young man who sounded mellow, if a bit sad. Jo could feel the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt, patched but soft. She gripped his forearms with her fingers, and thought in response.

'Of course I am. What will I do now? I can't help people anymore.'

The person behind her shook his head. "A sound without sound, a presence without purpose. She thinks of herself as a stain on the wall that festers. But you can help."

'How? I am nothing without them. I relied on them too much. Now where will I find wisdom, or valor? Faith and hope?'

His arms tightened. "Remember."

The tears continued to fall, and Jo tried not to cling to the pieces of fade clinging to the young man's skin. Compassion, once upon a time? It still felt wrong, but not like when she had been touched a few minutes ago. He had started humming again and she was able to breath. A sliver of light appeared in front of her, and Jo realized she had been placed in a tent. The tent-flapped continued to part, and the elven apostate stepped through.

Jo looked up at him with shuddered eyes. "Solas," she muttered.

The elf's eyes widened in brief surprise, before narrowing. "Yes. And you are?"

Jo thought the name Jolina, but couldn't seem to make herself say it.

"Jolina," the young blonde answered for her from behind, and Jo felt down his sleeve to grip one of his hands in thanks. He squeezed back.

"Jolina." The elf sighed loudly, before sitting down on the ground across from them. "I admit that I have never come across your circumstance before. Wisdom said you spent years with her in the Fade in your physical form. As far as I know, this had never happened before. I cannot be sure yet of the consequences."

"Y-years?" Had it really been that long? Not that she had anyway to tell, but years? How many? What did she look like now? Was she considerably older? It was then that she looked down at her clothing and saw the age. Her casual button-up shirt that was obvious fraying at the edge, dust clinging between the creases. Her tank-top underneath had holes and was covered in grime and blood. Her shorts had worn the best, but even they were faded in color, the thread rubbed raw in a few spots. How?

Fear and panic once again started to boil over, and she heard a growling sound come from behind her. She twisted anxiously to look at the young man, who was openly scowling at the elf. "You are scaring her," he reprimanded, before looking down at her.

When their eyes met a second time Jo remembered. 'Cole' she thought. Cole who had once been a spirit of compassion. Cole, who had born from the death of the real Cole in the White Spire. Cole, who wanted to help but didn't always know how to go about it.

Cole's head cocked curiously. "You know me?" he asked. Jo didn't answer.

"Cole?" Solas asked with curiosity, but also an obvious sense of apprehension. Cole didn't respond, although his hand had tightened around hers. The elf sighed again, then stated, "We are going to bring you back to Skyhold for now until we figure out what to do with you."

Skyhold? Jo remembered flashes of the building from the game. The undercroft, sounds of heated metal crafted beneath a waterfall. The prison a gaping hole in the side of the massive fortress. The throne standing imperiously behind stained glass windows. A room tucked into the corner of the Chantry garden that contained a mirror that reflected like polished gold, but gleamed blue when the time was right. 'Eluvian' she thought to herself.

Cole frowned down at her. "Images like reflections, but not. A memory inside of a memory inside of a dream. The glint of the eluvian shines gold outside embriem blooms, but the witch stands possessive. Have you been there before?"

Jo couldn't answer. It felt like a dream, at this point. Her life before the fade. A time of hurt and spilled coffee and kittens abandoned, pouncing in cardboard boxes. Of the ruins. But what was real, then? It all seemed to be a dream.

"Cole?" Solas asked again, his voice harder this time.

"Dreams," Cole answered, his brow furrowed as he attempted to make sense of Jo's thoughts.

Solas' eyebrow quirked. "You dreamed inside of the Fade?"

Jo frowned. Of course not. She couldn't remember sleeping. She couldn't remember eating. Why would there be dreams for her? But she saw the dreams of others in the Fade. Not that this is where she got these glimpses, but… she couldn't be sure, could she? Perhaps her previous life had been someone else's dream?

Cole's frown deepened, and he looked back at Solas. "The dreams of others. Remembering."

Solas' forehead crinkled in thought. "What of Corypheus?"

Jo heard the name and started. Image flashed of what she remembered, and what others had dreamed. The man standing at the cliff facing Haven, red lyrium growing from his body, his mouth fixed in a malicious sneer. Startled desperate Grey Wardens as their blood was spilt and demons formed in their wake- for Corypheus, a man stated. Clusters of villagers shivering in cages, being led inside caves in shackles to mine red lyrium outside Sahrnia.

Cole's arms tightened around her almost to the point of pain as he saw these images. "Tall, imposing his will, but they hurt. Death, torment, possession. Discarded bodies that thrum with pain, the color a jittery red."

Jo leaned back to see him again, curious. His phrasing sounded almost beautiful, despite the despair and anger she could feel behind his words. How did he do that?

The young rogue didn't answer, instead reaching behind him to grab her bag, which he set inside of her lap.

Jo exclaimed with a gasp. Her backpack! Then maybe her past wasn't a dream? A figment of her imagination? She clutched it to her chest, her smile wobbly. But then what did that mean for her? Everything about her situation seemed an impossibility. And it seemed far too easy for the disassociation to grab hold and alter her reality. What was there to grab onto?

Cole reached around her once more to clutch her hand, and she felt herself relax slightly. She would figure this out. She would. For the sake of her spirit friends. For the sake of the people in this new group who had already invested time and energy into helping her out. She looked up into the eyes of the elven mage, who was giving her a look of consideration. "To Skyhold?" she asked.

"To Skyhold," he repeated in affirmation, a solemn look on his face.

Jolina thought that the individuals in this group were extremely accommodating. The first day of travel Jo could only manage to follow at dusk and a few hours into the night. Unable to sleep (did she forget how?), she sat around the fire with Cole close by. Eventually relaxing, staring into the campfire, Jo was caught by the way the fire seemed to turn all of Cole's features a golden red, and had gotten out her sketchbook to draw the different shades. He had tried to move to see what she was doing, but she encouraged him to stay seated with strong thoughts and weaker hand motions. The young man sat back down in confusion.

* * *

After adjusting to the world all night, she could handle dawn. The next day was overcast, rain showers falling sporadically, but it was enough that she felt comfortable traveling during the day. Slowly, but surely she became used to the brightness.

Noises were harder to get used to. Cole had found a spare scarf, which he had wrapped around her head, covering her ears, with a smile. She could tell from the look of amusement on the face of the others that it looked ridiculous, but noise became so much more manageable, and she was grateful.

The Inquisitor introduced herself as Ariya, and looked at her curiously as Solas explained her circumstances, eyes bright. Jo and Ariya had had a stilted conversation, in which Jo felt much too overwhelmed to actively participate, but the elf just smiled kindly at her, her vallaslin glowing slightly in the moonlight.

They had three tents set up the second night they stopped to rest, and Solas had insisted that she share a tent with him. He stated that he was concerned about how her resting form might interact with the Fade, and wanted to be there just in case to prevent trouble. He healed whatever bruises Jo could still feel on her back and head, and then settled down to watch her fall.

Cole could tell blankets comforted Jo, but he drudged up a few too many in his enthusiasm. She was soon tucked and nestled in a too-warm cocoon, watched by the vigil that was Cole and Solas as she closed her eyes and drifted away.

It felt as natural as breathing, which was unusual from what she remembered about her life before. One second she was sweating almost uncomfortably, a hand wrapped in cotton moving strands of hair from her face, and the next she was in the Fade.

It was almost frightening to be there as a Dreamer. She possessed none of the same control, her will operating differently on the space in front of her. But she was able to reign in any apprehension, comforted by the familiarity of the plain. She wandered, coming across a familiar ball of light, and began chatting with the sparkling wisp.

Solas found her shortly after that, and Jo instantly quieted. Letting out concerned trills, the wisp came over and nudged gently against her face. She couldn't help but laugh, stroking the wisp and smiling with happiness. She did not feel comfortable attempting to actually do anything in front of Solas, whether that meant conjuring materials or calling out to Wisdom. Instead, Solas sat with her on a group of rocks and they watched a faraway ghost mutter and grip transparent sheets.

"Jolina," the elf eventually addressed. She turned to look at him. "How did you experience others' dreams?"

She didn't know how to describe it. She could just feel it. Intuitively understand their emotions and circumstances. Their struggles. But not their thoughts. Images would form in her mind, imprinted from their experiences, but that was all. The word imprint stuck out as being the most appropriate, and she offered it to him.

"Imprints?" she stated, unsure.

Solas seemed to consider that. "So you never entered their dreams?"

Jo's eyes widened in surprise. "You can do that?"

Solas nodded, and then stood. "Come," he stated, holding out his hand. Jo took it with less suspicion this time, jumping up curiously. He took them a few paces until she noticed the familiar light of shuddering translucency and grasping fingers. Still holding her hand in his right, he grasped the fingers with his left. The moment he touched she could feel their joint connection, and an incredible pull. Black, blinding space, and then…

She looked around and saw a field of green, an interplay of weeds and flowers, that stood in front of a homestead. A young man was positioned in front cutting tree chucks into pieces of wood. He turned as he heard a call, and a women wearing a flowing red skirt came out to meet him. They shared a kiss, both grinning tumultuously, as a stray breeze came and blew their hair to the side.

"A memory," Solas elaborated from beside her, "the way she remembers her youth."

Jo sighed. It was such a lovely image. Which, from her experience, had not been the norm in a majority of the dreamers she had come across.

Another breath and they were back in Fade, and Solas noticed the woman visibly relax. "Have you attempted to shape the Fade before?"

"Shape?" she asked, slightly tilting her head as she contemplated what he was referring to. Like creating things from the ether? She summoned her daggers with barely a thought, and held the objects out in front of him as if attempting to answer with them alone.

Solas nodded. "Have you attempted anything more than objects? Could you craft a memory like the one we just witnessed?"

Craft a memory? Jo had never considered trying such a thing before. Was that something that was possible in the Fade? Jo thought about what she wanted to see. Reassured of the existence of her old home, she thought about one of her favorite memories, concentrating on remembering the whole as much as the details. It was difficult because it felt so long ago, an impression within a dream, but… It took barely a second before, once again, Solas and she were pulled into a new space.

Jo's great uncle had a cabin in the northeast part of New York, far away from the city. They arrived in the winter, the surrounding woods covered in snow, and looking into the cabin Jo could see a lit Christmas tree twinkling in front of the window. Presents were stacked around it, and a fire glowed soft embers in a fireplace opposite the window. The snow crunched under her boots as she took a few involuntary steps forward, and she could practically smell the burning wood and taste the spiced hot cocoa. This Christmas had been special- an unusual gathering of cousins and extended family, and it had seemed _more_ somehow. It wasn't the gifts, or the decorations, or the music; something about family and warmth and acceptance.

Jo turned to Solas to find him looking around curiously. Frowning, suddenly feeling self-conscious, she let go of the memory and they were once again standing in the Fade. Solas pulled his hand from hers, and looked down at her solemnly.

"Are you a mage?" he asked with no preamble.

Jo thought of her pathetic attempts to recreate magic in the Fade, even with the help and guidance of Hope, Valor, and Justice. "Not at all," she responded, shaking her head.

Solas' brows furrowed in thought. "Another peculiarity," he stated. "I have never met anyone who was capable of manipulating the Fade as easily as you who was not a mage."

Jo thought about that for a long moment. "Does magic enhance their presence in the ether? Or facilitate their ability to create? Or have they already practiced magical application that called for manipulating material in space, and so it was simply a matter of applying the same training in a different context?"

Solas stared at her for a few moments in what Jo felt was surprise, before answering with an approving nod. "A little of all three, I suspect. Although most do not bother to question the intricacies. And the result differs depending on the power of the mage, which adds to the complexity."

Jo nodded. "How long have we been here?" she asked, looked up at the gleaming green ambience that made up the sky. Before he could answer, however, the world faded as she took a breath, blinked, and saw cloudy grey-blue eyes peering at her underneath a too-large hat inside of a dark tent.

"Jo," the blonde rogue stated with a worried eyes and pursed lips. She didn't understand why until she looked down and saw sweat pouring profusely from her body. All at once, she realized she was sweltering.

Solas stood up from a nearby cot, and once he could take in the situation, began removing blankets. Cole started a muttered refusal, but stood back to watch Solas work. When all of the blankets were removed and she still felt hot, Solas put his hand on her forehead and hummed in disapproval. He left the tent, and Jo audibly appreciated the burst of cold air that entered the tent as he did.

"I'm sorry," Jo attention was immediately drawn to the blonde rogue, "I did this wrong. Burning, sweaty, sticky, sick. Everything is still too much."

Jo saw that he was still frowning, and smiled. His worry was incredibly endearing. "Don't be silly. This was perfect." This was hardly the first time she had gone to bed with too many blankets. She loved blankets. Especially fuzzy ones. And the way he had tucked her in made her feel safe and cared for. Jo knew from experience that those feelings were to be treasured.

Cole's lips lifted a bit in response to her smile, but they were interrupted as Solas and Ariya entered the tent. Another burst of cool air settled over her arms and legs, and Jo sighed in pleasure.

"You are ill?" Ariya asked with a concerned frown. Jo blinked at her, unsure of what to say. Was she?

The inquisitor sighed. "There will be talking later," she warned, before sitting beside her cot. "Luckily for you, the rides we requested from Horsemaster Dennett have arrived, so we should be able to carry you back to Skyhold."

It was only an hour or so before dawn, and they made quick work of putting away the tents and consolidating supplies. Jo stood off to the side clutching her backpack, feeling a bit useless, but unsure how to help. She was eventually fed a potion that tasted like death, wrapped in a few blankets by an insistent Cole, and tossed onto a horse sitting behind Blackwall (who was quickly established as the most skillful rider after a small debate within the group).

This actually turned out quite well for Jo. When the sun came out of the clouds and the light became glaring, she bunched up the blanket edges around her head and leaned into Blackwall's back. And as they steadily rose in elevation and the temperature dropped, she was able to stay warm. It took the whole day before they were able to reach Skyhold just as sun was setting, and Jo felt herself suck in a breath as the fortress came into the view. The game could hardly do the structure justice; it was much larger and more imposing in person, and as she came closer she could see it was much better put-together (Jo assumed they were more proactive about covering holes in the ceilings and walls in real life).

Jo took a deep breath against the sudden nerves that were threatening to pour from her body (What it they thought her a spy and tortured her? What if she was too useless to keep? What if she couldn't manage this new place, meeting these new people?)- breathe in, breathe out. In. Out. She tried her best to draw on the strength of her old friends, needing them, but… It was just her here. So she would have to do the best that she could.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: Bioware and its affiliates own Dragon Age. Not me, unfortunately.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Liminality**

Ch. 4: The War Room

* * *

Entering the courtyard, Blackwall helped her from the horse. Cole came up and fidgeted with her cloth, re-wrapping the scarf around her ears and pinning the blankets around her shoulder. Then Ariya gripped her shoulder lightly and steered her into the Main Hall, the only portion of skin visible was a small part of her face. Everyone stopped and starred at the strange image she made, several Orlesian nobles gasping dramatically, before she was led through a door to the left.

A few doors later, and she entered what looked to be the war room. Ariya left her there, and Jo assumed it was to locate and bring the other advisors. Curious, she walked towards the map and saw clusters of placeholders and knives sticking out of various places. She was trying to remember which spaces corresponded with which tasks (it had been a long time), when the door swung open. Spinning, she saw women who looked very much like Morrigan and Cassandra, and who was quickly followed by the rest of Lavellan's advisors. They all looked at her with a strange mixture of suspicion, curiosity, and confusion, and Jo struggled to free her hand from underneath all of the blankets.

They all saw her movements and responded with wary expression. Cullen and Cassandra started to unsheathe their sword, which caused Jo to squeak with apprehension and fear, just as her free hand came into view under the mass of cloth.

They turned to look at Ariya, who was watching Jo with exasperation. "Oh, Jolina."

"What exactly is going on, Inquisitor? Who is she?" Jo saw from her features that the women who asked was Leliana, and although her features were dispassionate, Jo could feel the suspicion. The potential for animosity. It was more than slightly concerning.

Ariya sighed. "Solas found her wandering the Fade with a group of Spirits. Apparently she had been there for some time. He will be here in a few moments to elaborate on her situation."

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "So she is a spirit?" The witch looked back at Jo with a gaze intense enough to be disconcerting.

"No-" Ariya started, before she was interrupted by a woman wearing elaborate robes and a horned headpiece. She was carrying a staff, her eyes flickered like flint and her lips were painted into a pout. 'Vivienne' Jo thought.

"And yet the Fade clings to her body. Are you collecting more demon children, my dear? Are we to have a hoard of them at our disposal?" the woman spoke as she made her way past the open door imperiously.

Demon children? The thought frightened Jo. She wasn't a demon, was she? She didn't even think she was a spirit. But what if she had died in the ruins? What if this turned into some Sixth Sense twist where she found out that, in reality, she had been dead all along? She looked down at her free hand in concern. It looked real… But then it would, wouldn't it?

Leliana frowned, and then looked at Ariya. "Who, exactly, will be privy to this information?"

Vivienne humphed, and cross her arms with a raised brow. "I heard the commotion and thought to investigate. Why? Is this a closed meeting?"

Amidst her own rising panic, Jo could see Ariya attempt to gain control of the situation. "No, it is not, but Leliana is concerned for security reasons. We have not verified her identity. She could be working for anybody. The less people she comes in contact with the better, until we know any differently". Leliana nodded with approval.

So they did think her a spy? She thought about cages and prisons and medieval torture weapons as her breathing started to escalate. Because she knew they would not be able to verify an identity. She didn't have one in Thedas. And they would hardly believe that she had come from another world… before she knew it she was hyperventilating, and her body temperature seemed to be too much. Jo attempted to pull some of the cloth from her head wrap over her eyes, but Cole had bound it too tightly. Her tangible thoughts spiraled into emotions. Fear. Anxiety. She missed the Fade so much. She wasn't meant to be here. She wasn't-

Jo saw two more people enter the room, and they both came for her. Cole grabbed her free hand and stated knowingly, "You're not a demon. Even if you don't feel real." How did he know, though? How could she tell?

Solas reached up to feel her forehead, and then shot Cole a look of frustration and exasperation. "She has a fever, Cole. She needs to be kept warm, but these are too many blankets." He started to unwrap her, which did nothing to help her panic. Jo didn't realize until he started, but the blankets made her feel insulated. Protected. Now she was getting more exposed, both figuratively and literally, and what was she supposed to do…

Tears started to stream, and Cole started to panic. "No no no. You can't. She doesn't feel safe. Pulled through the rift in a ruin by a black hand, green, bleeding, spiraling, they will never believe her. Not from here, but with glimpses from here. She thinks she will be tortured."

"Tortured? Why?" Solas asked with a furrowed brow, before turning around to look at the people present. His gaze stopped at Ariya. "You said she is to be tortured?"

"No!" Ariya denied vehemently, shaking her head. All of the advisors seemed to be frowning.

"I still see no evidence that she is not a demon. Perhaps banishment would be more apropos?" Vivienne suggested coolly.

Solas responded tersely, the frustration and anger obvious on his face, "Why would you think her a demon? This isn't the first example of someone existing physically in the Fade. We know it to be possible."

"Although unlikely. Our obvious exception aside, which we can all agree was extremely circumstantial to the point of possible divine intervention?"

"She is not a demon!" Cole stated adamantly, still clutching her hand.

"Spoken from the lips of our other resident demon child. And defended by our elven apostate with questionable origins. Hardly sources to be trusted…"

They thought Cole was a demon? But he wasn't. Jo had spent enough time in the Fade to distinguish between the two, even in this plane. Jo could still feel pieces of the Fade cling to Cole, soft whispers that resonated the same vibrations that her encounter with a Spirit of Compassion had, but he was not a demon. And why did Vivienne bring up the fact Solas was elven as if that was a detriment? Jo's hand tightened around the rogue and some of her panic cleared as indignation rose in response.

They were interrupted by another presence by the open door. "Ah, guys? There seem to be a problem?" Jo could recognize Varric just from the crossbow and abundant chest hair.

Ariya looked very much like she had completely lost control of the situation, and Leliana looked as if she would very much like to close the door. Vivienne looked at the Inquisitor with a snide smile. "Might as well invite the entire Inquisition in here at this rate, darling."

Ariya led off of that as if desperate to do something in order to reign everyone in. "Fine. I will be back with Dorian, Sera, Blackwall, and the Iron Bull, since it seems as if everyone wants to include their input. Please manage _some_ civility until I return." She walked quickly out of the room, closing the door behind her, and Varric looked around in confusion.

"What did I miss?" the dwarf asked, zeroing in on Cole's look of distress with concern.

Solas spoke up, scowling. "I found Jolina wandering the Fade a few days ago, and helped her cross into our plane. She was there physically, although she exhibits remarkable control of the space there. She is not-" Solas stopped for a moment to glare poignantly at Vivienne, "-a demon or a spirit."

"Then how do you explain how the Fade clings to her?" Morrigan asked, leaning against the wall with crossed arm.

Solas turned to her with hard eyes. "Wisdom said that she had been traveling in the Fade with her for years. I will admit that this is a peculiar situation, but due to that fact, none of us possess the means to justifiably evaluate and judge her existence. If we would even have a right to do that otherwise."

Morrigan didn't look convinced. "And what was she doing for all of those years in the Fade?"

Cole spoke up, "She just wants to help!"

Jo agreed. That is what she had spent a majority of her time doing in the Fade, after all. Helping gave her purpose, made her feel as if she could be more than herself, so that even if she considered herself worthless, that is not all she would be. Cole seemed to follow that train of thought and looked back at her, obviously stricken.

Varric huffed. "So let me get this straight. Girl appears mysteriously out of the Fade, everyone suspects her intentions, a few plan to lock her up, but she just wants to help people. Now I know I drank a lot last night, but this story sounds familiar."

"This is hardly the same situation, Varric," Cullen spoke up, reaching up to rub the wrinkled between his eyebrows with a sigh.

"You are all making this more complicated than it needs to be." Varric strode up to Jo, and Cole moved to the side, although he didn't let go of her hand. He squeezed in response to the slight hysteria bubbling to the surface in Jo's mind. Now what?

"Your name?" the dwarf asked.

"Jolina," Jo responded.

"Jo," Cole corrected, giving her a meaningful look. Jo frowned at him for a moment, before turning back to Varric.

"Do you intend to hurt anyone?"

Jo's eyes widened as she visibly recoiled. Is that what they thought? "Of course not!"

"Who are you working for?" Varric stopped to cross his arms, and he looked at her solemnly.

"No one?" She couldn't stop her response from sounding like a question.

"Would you like the opportunity to help more people?"

Jo's eyebrows furrowed and she peered down at the dwarf, as if expecting a trick. "Of course?"

Varric instantly beamed. "Well, welcome to the Inquisition!" He stepped forward to pat her back the side opposite of Cole.

"Varric," Cassandra seemed to growl.

"She could be anyone," Leliana maintained, looked at the four of them across the room with disapproval.

"She could be anything," Vivienne corrected with a frown.

The door burst open then, and Ariya came in closely followed by the rest of her companions. Dorian was the first to speak, and it became obvious that the warrior elf had explained Jo's situation on the way to the room. And that they had heard the group's conversation from the other side of the door.

"Well there is an easy solution to determine that, isn't there? We could attempt to bind her. And if it doesn't work, we know she is who she says she is," the mustached man suggested flippantly.

"Of course the Tevinter would immediately suggest blood magic," Vivienne responded with a sneer.

Dorian frowned. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Banishment?" the woman reiterated coolly.

Meanwhile, Jo had started shaking. She took a step and pressed up against Cole's shoulder, seeking comfort. Binding? Blood magic? But what if she wasn't real? What would happen to her? She remembered the corruption of the young man that had taken place in the Fade, and the way the spirits and demons had been distorted crossing the rift. Would she become corrupted too? Could they control her? What would they make her do?

Cole looked down at her in concern from underneath his wide hat. He seemed at a loss for what to do, pressing more firmly against her as he looked towards his apostate friend. "Solas?" he asked anxiously.

The elf frowned. "What is it, Cole?" he asked, stepping next to Varric to get a better look at Jo.

"They're making her forget. She can't remember being real. There's too much in the way, the fear, the helplessness, the… not-knowing."

Cole couldn't stop frowning, and Jo could feel how upset and angry he was. It was her fault wasn't it? Because she couldn't get a grip on herself, and now one of the only people to have defended her since her arrival was hurting. The guilt and self-hate tasted a lot like blood, and it took a few seconds for her to realize she had bitten lips that had been chapped and cracked on her way to Skyhold. She really could do nothing right.

"No!" Cole said looking back at Jo, and the feelings intensified. The blonde rogue tensed in frustration, and his grip on her hand became almost painful.

"Kid?" Varric asked, looking between the two of them cautiously.

"She feels bad for making me upset. But I'm not upset at _her_. So why does she feel bad?"

They were interrupted by a female elf with choppy blonde hair who had skipped over to the group. Sera? She shoved herself in between Solas and Varric, using Varric's head as a hand rest as she peered into Jo's face. Both men looked at her obviously disgruntled. "Well, she looks creepy," the woman decided loudly, the disgust pulling a frown.

"Really?" Dorian sounded intrigued, and pulled himself forward to look at her face. A single brow raised as he looked back at Ariya, "Why is she wrapped from head to toe in blankets?"

With so many people crowded so close to her face, Jo felt anxiety pull through her in another wave. Hyperventilating, afraid at the flippancy with which they seemed to be deciding her fate, Jo shoved her face into Cole's shoulder. Panicking, she tried to remember. If she was a spirit, she should be able to will herself back in the Fade, right? Or did it not work that way? She tried anyways in desperation, eyes squeezed shut, wishing… When everyone in front of her made noises of protest, she peeked just enough to see Solas standing protectively in front of her and Cole, pointing his staff towards everyone else in the room.

Blackwall spoke up from his position by the door, "If everyone could just calm down now…"

"Nobody will be binding anyone," Solas stated fiercely, his staff still pointed forward.

"So she is a spirit?" Dorian asked, frowning.

"No, she is human," Solas responded, pursing his lips in frustration.

"Then she is a mage?"

Solas faltered at the question, and everyone seemed to be able to tell. "She says she is not."

Vivienne felt the need the speak up again. "I would just like to state the impossibility of what you are suggesting-"

"Solas, put your staff down," Ariya interrupted. The two elves stared at each other intently for a few moments, before Solas complied. "Thank you. Now there is no need to you to stand in front of them, we are hardly going to start practicing blood magic. Why this was even brought up…"

"That's what I would like to know…" Cullen muttered, his hand still on his brow, clearly exasperated.

Solas stepped away from Jo and Cole, staring unhappily at Sera, before Dorian seemed to find an opening. Less than a second passed before he had twirled his own staff, sending a bolt of electricity towards them.

Time seemed to slow as Jo felt Cole tense and try to move in front of her. Solas swung his staff towards the Tevinter mage. Neither moved quickly enough, and in desperation, Jo threw her arms around Cole and tried to will a protection spell. She had never practiced magic outside of the Fade; she had no idea how to go about creating a ward. She had no idea that it would work. But she concentrated on how much she wanted to protect Cole, and remembered Hope, and tried to use that desperation to blot out the doubt and visualize a clear barrier around them that would deflect the bolt.

She heard a zing and a gasp, still tensed for pain, before someone called out, "See! She has already lied! Or were you lying to protect her, elf?"

She looked up from where she was still wrapped around the blonde rogue and saw a barrier shimmering a translucent blue.

"So she's a mage?"

"This still doesn't prove anything. Demons can cast spells…" Morrigan added.

Ariya interrupted, "Solas, I thought you said she wasn't a mage."

A sniff from Vivienne. "Well, she certainly wasn't trained by a circle. Are we to be endorsing rogue mages, Inquisitor? And I agree with the witch. She could still be a demon child."

Solas had turned to look at her, his eyes hard and his lips pursed. "Jolina?"

It was too much. Too much. Much too much. Seeing a barrier come out in the physical world from her will… She hadn't been lying. She couldn't manage more than a couple spells in the Fade, after what felt like weeks of instruction… So why in the world would she consider herself a mage? But what was she supposed to do? She couldn't just let Cole get hurt. What were they going to do to her? And she was still not used to the light and noise, and all of these people speaking at once…. She didn't even know what she looked like. She didn't know what she was capable of. She didn't know if she was alive. The combination of dissociation, fear, and Solas' censure proved to be the tipping point, and she finally tipped over into full hysteria. Sobs came unbidden, and poor Cole bore the brunt of her feelings as her arms tightened around his waist.

The young man in question didn't seem to mind her tears, and shifted the woman in his arms so one arm could more comfortably fit around her shoulders. He then addressed everyone, and if Jo had been more coherent, she would have been curious to see the look on his face.

"Stop. You are all hurting her. Jo is not a liar. Trying, grasping, fingers flexing, but spells don't sit well within her mind, and the mind controls the fingers. Valor and Hope tried to teach her to use magic in the Fade, but she doesn't think of herself as a mage. She doesn't think she can do it. Not well enough to matter."

"No," Dorian sounded indignant "You cannot simply decide to take up magic, as if it were some sort of _hobby_. You are either born with the ability or you or not. I have never heard anything more ridiculous… As if you could pick up magic simply by being in the Fade."

Solas sounded considering. "Having magic would explain her aptitude as a dreamer, but Dorian is right." There was a pause. "Cole, was she possessed in the Fade?"

"So she is an abomination." Cassandra stated.

"She is not possessed," Cole said firmly.

"I can't help but notice that she isn't speaking up in her own defense. Something to hide?" Leliana interjected. Jo's sobs had quieted, but she made no move to leave Cole's arms.

"You are all confusing her. She doesn't know what to say," Cole stated, upset.

"I already asked the important questions," Varric interceded, and Jo could hear that he had come to stand next to Cole. "You are all just nitpicking about her origins. But what kind of people would we be if we didn't do the same in return? Would you like to start Solas? Vivienne? _Leliana_? Let's talk about where you came from and all of your experiences leading up to this point, because otherwise, you obviously can't be trusted."

"This is not the same thing. We have all already spoken to Leliana, for the safety of everyone. She can't be excluded from that process," Josephine spoke up in Leliana's defense.

"I must be remembering my start in the Inquisition wrong then. It looks to me like the girl is being interrogated in front of sixteen people right now. A few of which have already called her names and threatened her with blood magic rituals. I know I am the forgetful sort, but I don't remember any of that as part of the _process_."

Ariya sounded frustrated. "It was not meant to be an interrogation! I just wanted everyone's input on how to move forward!"

Still desperate, upset, afraid, and overwhelmed, Jo had an idea just then. She could die. Or try to die. And if she did die, then she could rejoin the Fade as a spirit. If she was already dead, then she would know she was dead, and would thus be able to move on. She didn't think anyone here would really mind if she was gone- if anything they would be relieved. She felt the emotions present in the room just then; anger, resentment, distrust, confusion, anxiety. She would be helping. The actual act of dying scared her a little bit, but the dissociative block reinforced by the impossibility of her situation helped. After all, who was to say that she was real? And even if this was real, what help could she offer the Inquisition? And wouldn't it be a better alternative than an attempted binding? Or possible torture? Better for her to leave.

It was easy to grab a handle from one of the daggers on Cole's back, and she pulled back from his chest to give herself space to plunge it between her ribs when she was stopped by a frenetic blonde rogue.

"Stop it! What are you doing!"

They all turned to watch her, and everyone drew their weapons when they saw Jo had a dagger in her hand. She wasn't paying attention to them, her face scrunched up in concentration as she attempted to wrangle the blade from Cole's grip.

"Let me-" she started, "No!" Cole interrupted. Jo stopped and looked into his face. "I want this. I would be helping. You would be helping. Just give me the dagger."

"You don't know what you want!" Cole cried out, before pulling the dagger from her grip, cutting her palm in the process. Jo looked at the red bubbling from her palm dispassionately for a few moments, before glaring at Cole. The rogue looked hysteric, guilty, concerned, and confused in equal measures, and turned to his friend to help. "She wants to kill herself! She thinks it will make everyone here happy. That she can go back to the Fade."

"And why is this a bad idea?" Vivienne spoke up from across the room. Cole turned to her and glared.

"You made her feel fake! Troubled and troubling, abandoned and worthless. She can't realize what she is doing if she doesn't think she's real!"

"Why would she think she isn't real? She's here, bleeding, in pain, crying snot all of your sad excuse for a wardrobe…" Dorian suggested sounding snide, although he looked concerned.

"She doesn't feel like her! Back home colored of old pain, red blows and blue thoughts. But inside, thoughtful, caring. A quiet strength. She wants to help, but doing that in the Fade is familiar. She is afraid of everyone here. Your feelings, your self too strong, so her own either flood or whisper," Cole stopped to look at her, one hand still grasping the dagger, the other her wrist. He dropped the dagger with a clatter, and moved his hands to cup both cheeks. Peered into her eyes intently.

"You are real. You would know if you were a spirit. You could feel it. This is not your fault. And I would not be happy if you died," the blonde rogue stated that last bit with feeling.

Jo felt stricken. And afraid. Indignant. Anxious. Sad. She felt like a vessel of sentiments, as if that is all her body was capable of holding at the moment. How can you be so sure? Still, just hearing that calmed some frenzied part of herself, and she felt comfortable leaning into his chest and contemplating her next move.

Ariya sounded tired as she took control of the conversation. "Alright, well I think she can stay, but she should be watched before we can determine who she is. And to make sure she doesn't harm herself." Jo saw the Inquisitor look meaningfully at Cole, Solas, Varric, and Blackwall in turn. Were they to be her keepers then?

She addressed Cole directly. "Cole, do you actually use the room assigned to you in the tavern?"

"I do not need to sleep," he responded.

"Right, well do you mind if she uses that room until we can get everything figured out?"

Cole sounded solemn. "We will be there."

Ariya sighed, just as several members in the group started to verbally protest.

"My dear, I really must object. You could be putting the safety of the entire inquisition in jeopardy-"

"So now there is a boy Creepy thing and a girl Creepy thing? Ugh, why?"

"Don't turn to me when she turns out to be some demon that attacks us in our bed-"

"Why did you ask us here if you weren't going to here everyone's opinion?"

Ariya sounded fierce. "You put me in charge as your leader. I brought everyone here because I can admit that you all possess expertise in areas that I do not, but in the end I am to make the final judgments regarding who is or is not accepted to join our cause. Please respect this." Jo could hear the elf's footsteps as she exited the room.

Jo looked up from Cole's chest to see Varric and Solas standing there. "Come on," the elven apostate said to Cole, gesturing to the two of them. The look he gave her was dispassionate, but Jo could feel the confusion, curiosity, and resentment.

Jo felt strung-out, but apprehension. What now?

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.**

 **A/N: I would first like to state that suicide is not something I approach lightly. Jolina suffers from a psychological disorder that is expanded on later in the story, which helps to put her in depressive and dissociative funks. As someone who has personally experienced a dissociative episode, I can assure you that thoughts about pain and suicide are skewed in unpredictable ways. But this story is about her personal growth, and about the power of quiet strength, and she needed a starting point.**

 **I would also like to state that one of the main reasons I am posting it now, rather than after I have finished more of the story, is a desperation for feed-back. I am considering changing certain elements of the story (such as whether or not Jolina should be able to manifest any kind of magic), and I would greatly appreciate your thoughts. Regardless, thank you for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Liminality**

Chapter 5: The Painted Atrium

* * *

Jolina remembered little more from the game than visual snapshots, memorable snippets of conversation, and big revelations. Still, she did remember the beautiful murals that Solas had gradually completed in the round atrium, and found the pixelated version could hardly do the paintings justice. They were larger, more vibrant in color, and there were more in number. As someone who had dabbled with paint with varying degrees of success, Jo could appreciate the mastery needed to create such images.

If she hadn't felt like a prisoner trudging to their execution, she might have said something. As it was, she was too consumed by a frightened and confused sense of apprehension. Cole helped. She briefly considered letting go, thinking that all of her feelings might be hurting him, but he just grasped her hand tighter. It was no small saving grace at this moment, to have such an ally in this place. She wondered how she would be able to pay him back.

Solas walked up to his chair and moved it so the back was facing the closest mural. "Sit," he stated, his voice still containing that hint of steel. Jo sat.

"This is what we are going to do. I am going to ask you questions, and you are going to answer. You, not Cole. Cole, let her answer."

Cole frowned at Solas, and Varric felt the need to add, "Now Solas, I think you might be taking this a little too far…"

"Varric," Solas made his name sound like a warning. Jo wondered if this demonstration was brought on by the Fen'Harel part of the man. Was there a difference? Was Solas the type of man that was able to compartmentalize these kind of emotions, or was his frustration with her letting his true self come out to play? Cole looked at her curiously, obviously aware of her thought process.

"Can you perform magic?" His gaze was intense, and his tone sardonic.

"Kind of?" Jo answered. Obviously, that demonstration in the war room established that she was capable. But she had little to no training, and even less faith. It was hard to trust something that she had been brought up to believe impossible. There was no intuitive reception. She felt the struggle.

"Do you consider yourself a mage?" Solas asked, and Jo felt herself relax a fraction. The elven man had obviously paid attention to what Cole had alluded to, and was responding accordingly. So perhaps this conversation would not be as unreasonable as the last one?

"No. I am not very capable. And I have no idea how that barrier formed in front of Cole," Jo responded quietly, but steady, although all three men could see her hand shake with trepidation.

"Did you have magic prior to entering the Fade?" His mouth was terse when he asked this, and Jo could tell this was a serious point of contention for him.

"No," Jo answered honestly, although she knew it would have been easier to lie.

Solas looked upset and dissatisfied. "Is there something that happened coming into the Fade that could have prompted a change?"

"Maybe? I entered a rift, although I don't see how that would automatically entail magical abilities. After all, Ariya is hardly a mage." Jo was curious too, and following this line of thinking in this way helped her to overcome some of the fear and apprehension. Because she was afraid. How in the world could she have adopted these traits?

"Where did you enter the Rift?" Solas was frowning.

"In some ruins I was studying. It was in the middle of the complex." Jo squeezed Cole's hand nervously. Was this the point in time where she admitted to being from another world? What would they think of her?

"Which ruins, exactly?"

"The Caracol Mayan Ruins in Belize."

Solas' disgruntled frown turned into a disbelieving sneer. "I have never heard of such a place."

"That is because it is not in Thedas."

Solas looked surprised, as if he had never considered such a thing. "You come from outside of Thedas?"

Comforted by the feel and pressure of Cole's hand in her own, Jo attempted to draw strength from it as she responded. "Yes. I come from a different world altogether."

Solas looked as if he was processing this, and orated his thoughts as if considering its merit. "So this rift acted not as a disconnect between Thedas and the Fade, but as a bridge between worlds? Was there magic in your world?"

Jo thought uncomfortably of all of the stories of magic that existed, and considered whether or not it might have existed in some form at some time. Still, she didn't want to give him suppositions. "No. Only in stories."

Solas looked disturbed at the thought. "No magic?" Jo turned curiously to peer at Varric, who had been silent this whole time, but he was gazing at her in discomforted disbelief. Jo frowned and felt guilty for the fear and worry radiating from his being, but was distracted when Cole squeezed her hand again. It brought her outside of her despair, and forced her attention back on Solas. She squeezed back, hoping he could feel her gratitude.

Solas looked almost excited as he considered his situation. "Or perhaps there is simply something present that suppresses it? Something similar to the Veil, but more powerful? So your entry into the Fade acted more like a catalyst energizing a latent ability, rather than a more fundamental change to your person?"

Jo considered that it might be possible. Although she had little knowledge about how such a thing could occur, so she knew anything they came up with was nothing more than conjecture. Although there was one hole to this theory that Jo could not stop herself from bringing up. "If magic is suppressed in my world, then why was there a Rift present? Wouldn't a stronger Veil make this kind of disturbance improbable?"

Solas gave her that slightly surprised nod of approval that he had given in the Fade. "That idea holds some merit, although I imagine that there are places and times in which the Veil is thinner, as it is in our world. Perhaps those ruins could even be a testament to the presence of magic long forgotten."

"It's possible," Jo admitted, "although I do not know nearly enough about this to consider anything outside of hypotheticals."

"What did you feel when you came across the Rift?" Solas asked, his focus on her rather unnerving.

"It called to me. Almost like a song. Whispers and then voices, their feelings coming out in the tone and intensity." She shivered, just remembering what it had been like to stare into the green hole. The sound. The pull.

Solas nodded. "That could be evidence of a magical ability already present before you entered the Fade. Unless you hear the same thing would you come close to a Rift, Master Tethras?"

The dwarf was still staring at her uneasily. "No, nothing like that."

Solas seemed to nod to himself, before he noticeably paused and then gazed at her with narrowed eyes.

"She is not lying," Cole spoke up from beside her. Jo couldn't blame him for having doubts. He was obviously a very intelligent man; she might have thought less of him if he had accepted everything she had to say at face-value.

Solas raised one eyebrow at the blonde rogue, before stepping closer to take her backpack. Jo pulled it against her chest defensively and glared. She could accept the need to be interrogated, but that did not mean they needed to go through her personal belongings. What few earthly possessions she still had left.

Solas' eyes once again became steel at her refusal. "Something to hide?" He sounded like Leliana.

Jo frowned. "No. But does my situation merit the need to violate what little agency I still have? Do I not deserve even a modicum of privacy?"

Solas seemed taken aback, as if confused that his actions could be taken that way. " _Ir abelas_. I did not realize." He then sighed, and leaned back against his desk with his arms crossed.

There was silence for a few seconds, everyone's brows deep with consideration, before Jo felt the need to ask a question. "How, exactly, should I help the Inquisition?"

Solas pursed his lips in thought. "What were you doing before you entered the Fade?"

"I was a student. Studying to become an Anthropologist."

The elven apostate tilted his head curiously at the unfamiliar term. "Anthropologist?"

"An anthropologist is a professional who studies people. A socio-cultural anthropologist might look at differing cultural traditions and habits between communities. A biological anthropologist is interested in the evolution of man, of how the biology of our bodies has changed over time. A linguistic anthropologist is concerned with the evolution of language, both in terms of changes in meaning and physical expression. And an archaeologist is an anthropologist that studies the past, who goes into ruins and attempts to understand ancient civilizations with the hopes of edifying their struggles and increasing their relevance, so the general understanding of history and the world is improved as a whole. Of course there is some merging that occurs; one of my professors was a paleo-pathologist, who found ancient skeletons and investigated the remains for signs of disease. It oftentimes manifested on the skeleton in some way, and helps us to gain a better understanding of the prevalence of certain diseases, their possible cultural relevance at the time, and the relationship between disease and human evolution." Jo said this all rather breathlessly, and with growing enthusiasm. She loved Anthropology. It was holistic and malleable and relevant and fascinating…

Solas seemed amused. "So you are a scholar?"

Jo was brought back to herself, and wrinkled her nose as she thought about it. "I suppose. Although in my culture that is an esteemed term. And I am still a student."

Solas smiled wryly. "Such modesty. How long have you been studying?"

"Over my entire education?" Jo clarified. Solas nodded. "Almost my entire life. Sixteen years? I started when I was five."

Solas looked taken aback, but fascinated. "Does everyone in your culture study for this long?"

Jo nodded. "Just about. There is compulsory education mandated until you are sixteen, so that guarantees at least eleven years, but just about everyone finishes after at least thirteen."

"What about your warriors? I doubt your society could survive only containing scholars."

Jo smirked. "Yes, we have a military, although individuals are only recruited after they are eighteen. This education style was thought to be necessary in order to promote the country's political ideologies, which operated as a Representative Democracy. Our founding principles were in freedom, equity, and the potential for social mobility. And in order to improve a higher standard of living and cultivate ingenuity and innovation, we needed a baseline. So every generation became literate and was taught the knowledge of our forbearers so that we would be better equipped to make improvements and further our study."

Jo shrugged before she continued. "Of course, this was also a useful way for the state to indoctrinate its citizens with specific information that would promote feelings of nationalism and unity. History retold from a certain perspective that omitted some of the more unsavory truths."

Solas' eyes were bright with interest. "Fascinating. And what would make someone a scholar?"

Jo's lips quirked as she thought about it. "A lifetime of study. A certain mastery of their subject. And the pursuit of knowledge, the need to research and learn more. At least 25 years?"

"Hm," Solas hummed, considering… something. Jo had no idea what.

Varric spoke up, and Jo was glad to see he didn't look as disturbed. "Can you fight?"

Jo nodded, feeling a little more confident with this skill set. "Valor taught me in the Fade."

Varric frowned. "How many spirits did you meet?" He seemed uncomfortable, which Jo guessed was due to his previous personal experience with Anders.

"Wisdom. Valor. Faith. Hope. Justice. Pity I didn't meet Purpose." Jo wondered what change that might have wrought. Would she be less confused, less apprehensive about her situation if she had a definable purpose? She wanted to help people with everything in her, but even she could admit that her efforts in the Fade had been rather lackluster compared to her spirit friends. And there were so many ways to help, it seemed too vague a purpose to give her the motivation she needed to push out of the dissociation and depression.

"Huh," was Varric's ineloquent reply, and Jo thought he looked a bit queasy.

"She should practice her skills. Find ways to help," Cole mentioned from her side.

The other two men nodded. Jo bit her split lip nervously as they plotted out a training regimen.

"Can you use a sword?" Varric paused their conversation to ask. She nodded, and then Solas and Varric planned a time for her to meet Blackwall in order to get some instruction, and to evaluate where she stood. Then she was to meet Varric for the same purpose, only with a bow. And then she was to meet Solas to see if he could help her become more in-tune with her magic. They turned to Cole.

"Well, kid? Did you want to help her with daggers? We need to see what kind of fighter she is going to be if we decide we want to bring her out into the field with us."

Cole nodded. "I will help."

Jo sighed, once again feeling a sense of nervous anticipation (or was it really dread?) bubble in her chest.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age. 'Tis a pity.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Liminality**

Chapter 6: Getting Around

* * *

The next week proved to be the most intense of Jolina's admittingly young life. She met Blackwall in the morning to practice using a sword. While they had established that she could remember and reproduce the basics to his satisfaction (her grip, the way she kept her center of gravity, her footwork), if became obvious that most of the subtleties of the craft were beyond her. She was also constantly having to readjust because of the differences between here and the Fade. Her sword was too heavy to lift and strike comfortably, the cling of the metal too loud. In fact, her entire being felt heavier.

She had asked Solas about this when she went to see him that night in the Fade. He hadn't sounded surprised.

"You were able to compensate through these difficulties with your will alone. That made you stronger, faster. More skilled. But everything in the Fade is merely a reflection. You would not be able to reproduce your efforts to the same effect outside of the Fate. It will take hard work and a lot of practice. You will need to build up the strength in your muscles."

Jo was disturbed that this manipulation occurred without her conscious thought, and told Solas as much. "But I wasn't trying to be stronger or faster? I thought the ability to will something could only happen as a result of a purposeful, conscious effort?"

Solas had shaken his head, but he didn't seem to disapprove of her question. "It does not need to happen consciously. Plenty of your will is imposed subconsciously. You consciously wanted to be more skilled, and your subconscious understood that it would require more strength and agility, and attempted to will those abilities to that effect. There are other examples too, though. When you were attempting to recreate the memory with the tree full of light, did you consciously think of all of those details? Or did you have a general idea, and some of the details were filled in naturally?"

Jo had nodded. That made sense, although it made her a little uncomfortable to know she had been doing this outside of her control.

Later, Jo wished all of her interactions with Solas had been this productive.

Their first meeting outside of the Fade was spent attempting to ascertain if she could locate magic by feel. That had gone well. She appeared to be very sensitive to magic, although Solas was a little disturbed to hear that Jo could feel emotions or sentiments attached to the wards, glyphs, and spells.

The next day was spent trying to get Jo to feel her own magic. This had been more difficult. It had been something brought up by her spirit friends in the Fade, and they had shown her the subtle ripples sent out from her frame that seemed to instigate change. Wisdom had informed her that these visible vibrations were a result of the manifestation of her magic. But this method did not translate well outside of that place; she was not able to see the ripples in Thedas. And she couldn't recognize her own magic by feel. In fact, it was difficult to feel her magic at all; the power and tightening in her chest felt so much like anxiety that Jo convinced herself she was suffering from a panic attack, and then Solas could do little more than watch her hyperventilate as she attempted to calm herself down.

By the third day of this, Solas was visibly frustrated. He instead attempted to get her to cast the few spells she was familiar with, but she couldn't make anything happen. And the longer that nothing happened, the more doubt blossomed in her chest that convinced her that this had all been a mistake. Surely what had happened in the war room was a fluke? Or perhaps her power was so weak that she was only capable of producing something in moments of sheer desperation?

He had eventually resorted to copying Dorian's approach, and threw a ball of flame at her chest. She saw it coming, and had panicked, put her hands in front of her breasts… but no barrier had appeared, and Jo had screamed as the flames ate away at the exposed skin on her arms, hands, and chest. The tears came on like a torrent, and with them a flare of emotions that hurt almost as much as the burned flesh- disappointment, fear, embarrassment, doubt, anxiety…

And then Cole had appeared by her side, seemingly out of nowhere, and although his gentle touch on her blistered fingers had caused her to cry out, she was so glad he was there… She heard the rogue admonish the mage, obviously upset, his lips pulled into a deep frown under his large hat… She had looked towards Solas to see his reaction, but suddenly there was another fire ball rushing towards Cole's side, and Jo didn't think as she gripped the hem of Cole's shirt in fear and felt a rush of energy in her arms, just as a barrier appeared that easily dissolved the ball of fire.

Jo couldn't breathe. She was caught somewhere between sobbing from the shock, shaking from the panic, and vomiting from the pain. She could barely hear Cole, who sounded angrier than she had ever heard him.

"What are you doing?! You're hurting her!"

Solas sounded frustrated as he defended himself. "Nothing else was working! How can I be blamed for the fact that she apparently cannot perform magic unless you are in danger?" He walked up to her, but Cole moved so that he stood between them. Solas snapped, "I need to heal the burns."

Cole moved so he was positioned at her back, and started patting her head like she had seen him do with a nug the day prior. Solas started healing her burned fingers, and made his way up her arms. The healing magic itself was soothing, and through it she could feel Solas' remorse and frustration. She reached out to touch the mages hand.

"I'm so sorry." She could still feel herself shaking, although the pain was rapidly receding. Solas frowned and shook his head.

" _Ir abelas_. I hurt you. This… is rather unusual. The self-preservation instinct is typically very strong. Even the most inexperienced mages are capable of defensive or offensive magic if their life is in danger. It happens naturally. But you…"

Cole orated her thoughts, his hand resting heavily on her head. Jo found the weight comforting.

"She doesn't like herself. She doesn't put any worth on her life. And she still doesn't really believe in magic."

The elf looked at her in disbelief after that proclamation. "Why?" he asked her.

Jo frowned, trying to organize her thoughts. "I'm still not entirely sure this is real? I don't feel real. Although the pain helped." Solas' expression didn't change, and Jo felt the need to elaborate. "This all seems rather impossible? And there are some mental illnesses that I suffered from in my world that are not helping. I have a tendency towards anxiety and depression, and sometimes I get into dissociative episodes."

"Dissociative episodes?" Solas sounded confused.

Jo elaborated. "Technically diagnosed as Depersonalization-derealization Disorder. I was told it was a coping mechanism I developed as a kid as a result of being bullied and having a shitty home life. I learned to deal with trauma by distancing myself from the pain and rationalizing it as not real or not a part of my personal experience, but now my mind does this automatically."

Solas' lips were pursed and considering. "What reason would you have to feel worthless?"

Jo felt her hand tighten on Cole's hem as she responded. "That's what I've been told my entire life. Kind of difficult to dispute in that circumstance."

The mage sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Any other difficulties you would like to share?"

Jo bit her recently healed lip in apprehension. "I'm having issues because, what I think is my magic feels like a panic attack? My chest aches and feels uncomfortably tight, and there is tension in my limbs… but I don't know how to let go? In my world when this happened there was nothing I could do. The pressure just pooled until I felt ready to scrape the skin off my forearms with my fingernails, but there was nowhere for that energy to go."

Solas tilted his head from that admission. "So you panic and try to hold it because you are unfamiliar with any safe, reliable method of release?" It sounded like a rhetorical question as rested fingers on his chin in thought. "Cole? You and Varric can take her for the rest of today. I have an idea, but I need some time to put everything in place."

Cole nodded, and led her away.

Jo's experiences training with Cole had been interesting, but not very effective. They were both extremely hesitant to accidentally hurt the other, so their sparring session turned into forty minutes of nervous circling and only a few half-hearted attempts at striking and dodging before Cole backed off and Jo followed. Varric eventually interrupted them.

"You guys, this is painful to watch. Kid, she can't learn if you don't attack."

Cole responded to him still looking at Jo. "She doesn't really want me to attack. Clinging metal too loud, colors swirl, please don't let him hurt me too. But I want to help." Jo felt her cheeks color after hearing the admission, embarrassed at her weakness.

Varric let out an exaggerated sigh, before coming towards her, making a grand demonstration of taking her in hand. Jo felt amusement curl the edges of her lips up. "Well then, I guess I'm going to have to step in. Come on Peaches, let's see what you can do with a bow."

"Peaches?" Jo asked as the three of them made their way to the armory.

Varric nodded. "Sweet and sour, but you seem to bruise easy. And just look at that blush." Jo colored at the description, which had obviously been his intention.

Her attempts with a bow had been a repeat of her experience with Blackwall. Varric complimented her form, but she lacked the strength to keep the notched arrow even enough to hit the target. Her attempts strained her already sore shoulders, and her biceps and triceps were constantly burning now. After what felt like her 50th fumble, Varric called it quits.

"Alright, well it seems the obvious first step for you would be to build up your strength. I will talk with Ariya to see if we can get you in with the recruits. The exercises they are working on focus on building up the strength to hold a sword. And if you find the time, I suggest finding a space to run in order to build up some stamina."

Jo had nodded, thinking that he would seek out the Inquisitor sometime soon, but he immediately took her and Cole and marched right up to Ariya. She stopped her sparring session with Cassandra to stare at the three of them in bemusement, sweat dripping down her face. "Yes, Varric?"

Varric wasted no time getting to the heart of the matter. "Peaches here is weaker than water. I suggest she be trained with some of the new recruits in order to build up some muscle.

Cassandra immediately grimaced. "She's a mage, Varric."

"A mage, who according to Chuckles, isn't capable of magic. And she needs to know how to defend herself."

Ariya looked at them dispassionately. And then sighed. "Fine, but I want one of you with her just in case. Leliana is still waiting to hear back from her informants, and in the meantime I want everyone to be safe." She turned to look at Jo, "I will talk with Commander Cullen, but you should prepare to join them at the start of next week."

Jo had nodded, and softly stated, "Thank you Inquisitor." What else could she say? Both she and Cassandra were powerful, intimidating women. They had both nodded, and resumed their spar.

By that time the sun was just about setting, and Varric took her and Cole to the tavern to get something to eat.

"I don't eat," Cole seemed to remind Varric as they sat down at a table together.

Varric ignored him. "So, what do you like?" he asked Jolina, motioning to the dwarf behind the counter for a menu. The man seemed to scowl at them for a few beats, before grudgingly slapping a couple of menus down on the table and sauntering away. This was the first time Jo had been in the tavern; for the last few days she had been picking at whatever food was lying around in unattended plates in the main Reception Hall.

"What do they have?" Jo asked, looking down at the menu. She always had a difficult time deciding what to eat.

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that," he responded offhandedly. Jo saw that Cole looked uncomfortable and frowned.

"Do they have cookies?" Jo asked.

"Cookies?" Varric asked, sounding both confused and amused. Jo nodded. Varric relented. "Sure, why not…" He went to the counter and made their order after dropping off the menus, and sat back down with little aplomb as he stared at Jo curiously, his brow raised. Jo ignored him in favor of looking around.

The tavern was much larger than what was depicted in her world. There were two large floors with a multitude of tables, and the third floor was made up of a row of doors that seemed to contain inn rooms. Maryden played music in a far corner, strumming a lute almost lazily. She recognized the Chargers dominating one corner of the inn, laughing boisterously and chugging ale, accompanied by a familiar drunk Qunari. She could hear Sutherland interacting with his crew up above, celebrating their new acquisition of armor. There were also plenty of soldiers in conversation. It was loud, but the emotions were nice- merriment, security, togetherness. She could see why Cole might like it here.

It took only a few minutes for their plates to be dropped off, and when they were Jo had to laugh. She could tell they were cookies, objectively, but what she had received was not at all what she was expecting. They looked like mushy biscuits containing pieces of dried fruit. She bit into it experimentally. Not bad, if a bit bland and not at all sweet compared to what she was used to. In fact, it tasted like some of those really expensive health bars you could get at a specialty market.

Hm. This wouldn't work. She had thought to return the favor to Cole by feeding him something he might like (he looked like he would be the type to have a sweet tooth). After all, it wasn't that he couldn't eat, right? Just that he didn't need to?

She would need to try something else. After a trip to the kitchens. And possibly a trip to see Josephine. Hm.

Varric looked amused at her disgruntlement. "Not what you were expecting?"

Jo let out a huff. "Cookies in my world are not at all like this. Do you think the people in the kitchen would let me use their oven if I wanted to bake something myself?"

Varric looked surprised. "You bake?"

Jo raised her own brow in return. "Yes?"

"But you are not a baker?"

"No?"

"Huh," Varric replied, before biting into his meal with gusto. "They might. Although you are going to have to figure out when they keep fire in the oven." Hm, another complication. Jo nodded in thanks.

Soon Jo and Cole headed up to his room after wishing Varric a good night. This night had proceeded similar to the three previous. Jo had slipped off all of her clothes and quickly donned a tank top and capri leggings (some of the only clothes she had thought to put in her backpack) pretending that Cole couldn't see her. She had attempted to ask him to leave her first night, but it seemed he took his job as her keeper quite seriously. Either that or she hadn't quite communicated what she wanted amidst her embarrassment.

In any case, she hurried through her nighttime ablutions in order to scurry under the covers, mostly because it was so cold in the room without the layers of leather the Inquisition had equipped her with (after they had convinced her to part with the blankets). Shivering until her body heated beneath the cloth, Jo retrieved her music box from her backpack as Cole settled himself next to her on top of the covers. She wound up the box, thinking of the ballet that had inspired the tune, as she and Cole settled into a contentful comradery.

This night, however, Cole broke the silence before she could pass out.

"It's pretty," the blonde rogue offered when the tune finished, and although she could not see his face from this angle underneath his hat, Jo thought she could hear him smiling.

"Mmhmm," Jo agreed, before she nervously asked a question that had been on her mind for a while. "Cole? Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes." She wondered what it was like to be asked questions he already heard in people's heads.

"How do you help people?"

"I listen," he said, fidgeting with his fingers.

That made sense, but… "How do you listen without losing yourself?" Jo remembered breaking down in the Fade. Helping sometimes hurt, especially when she already _felt_ so much…

His fingers stilled. "But helping them is what makes me _me_. It helps me _find_ myself."

"But sometimes it hurts?" Jo was very hesitant to bring this point up, mostly because she knew how much he must have suffered associating with her the past week, but she had to know.

His head came forward in a nod, and then, "But helping matters more."

"I'm sorry Cole," Jo stated sadly. She really wanted to make things easier for him, but it was hard to do when she felt so powerless. Although she knew that thinking this way was bordering compliance… this train of thought caused her to remember the connotations associated with _learned helplessness_ , which made her feel like rebelling for some sense independence-

The hat moved from side to side. "Don't be sorry. I like helping."

Still… "How do you think I should help?"

There was silence and Jo imagined him frowning. Finally, he said, "Don't worry. Even trying helps."

Jo let out a small, frustrated huff, before winding up the music box again and throwing her head into the pillow.

She heard Cole state, "Don't worry, Jo. It will work out," before she felt a few fingers thread through her hair (it really did feel like she was being pet, but it felt so good she didn't say anything). Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

* * *

The next morning Jo woke up to see Cole sitting by the single window located at the far end of the room, watching the changing colors as the sun slowly came up. Her mouth felt dry and her eyes crusty, but it took a few minutes to recognize what might be wrong. No impromptu lesson from Solas in the Fade. Instead her dreams were barely remembered flashes of an old nightmare. So this didn't happen every night? It felt… decidedly odd. She had enjoyed waking from the Fade, comforted by the familiar… something that made up that place. But now…

Trying to shake off the discomfort she addressed Cole. "What do you do while everyone is sleeping?"

"Listen to dreams," he stated despondently, not turning to face her.

Jo became slightly concerned at his tone. "Cole? Is something wrong?"

"No," he stated, but it almost sounded as if he was… pouting?

Jo frowned. She got out of bed, and took a few steps towards him. "Cole?"

Silence, and Jo saw his shoulders tense slightly at her approach. Perturbed, she took those few extra steps and lifted up the edge of his hat as she peeked around to see his face. He was frowning, but what drew her attention was the dark bruise circling his right eye.

Jo gasped, and gently outlined the edge of his bruise with her fingertips. "Cole, what happened?"

His lips were definitely pouting, and his pale blue eyes were narrowed. "You hit me."

"While I was asleep?" Jo clarified gently. He nodded. "Oh, honey," she exclaimed at his look, before throwing her arms around the blonde rogue. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," she muttered into his shoulder, but the rogue seemed rather uncomfortable. So he was familiar with hysterical women in tears, but not coherent ones trying to bring him comfort?

She eventually let go, and made a show of righting his hat. "Just let me change and we can ask Solas to heal that bruise for you." Feeling a bit discomforted, she quickly changed into the soft leather. In no time at all the pair of them were heading towards the Rotunda, although Jo paused in the Reception Hall long enough to grab some fresh fruit.

Solas looked surprised to see them so early, pausing in the middle of a paint stroke. His eyes narrowed in on Cole's bruise rather quickly, and he shot her a dark look. "What happened?"

Jo felt like sighing. The immediate suspicion hurt. Jo wondered if she could ever get used to feeling like she was walking on pins and needles. "I accidentally hit Cole while I was having a nightmare. Could you heal him?"

Solas' look became considering. "This actually suits rather well for our purposes today. Do you think you would be capable of healing him yourself?"

Jo felt something drop in the pit of her stomach. "I don't know how," she admitted, looking pointedly at the pattern of the rug that lay above the stone floor.

She heard the elf descend from the scaffold and approach the two of him. "Jolina," he stated, and Jo's gaze shot up to meet his. "Do not think about technique for right now. I want to get an idea of what you can do intuitively. Just try."

Jo remembered Cole's words from last night, and felt slightly bitter. Just try? Because, obviously, nothing could go wrong…

She took a fortifying breath and turned to Cole. He looked solemn. "I really am sorry," she told him, and then concentrated on her want to heal him, ignoring the familiar tension tightening the muscles in her arms. She wanted to make him better, to heal the marred skin that she had damaged unconsciously. She wanted to show that she cared about her new potential friend…

She reached out tentatively to touch his cheek, and both Jo and Cole let out a gasp as her magic jumped to her command, immediately streaming up his skin to flood and heal the area around his eye. The healing finished with an almost inaudible pop, and Jo snatched her hand back as if her fingers had been scalded. She turned to look at Solas with wide, apprehensive eyes, feeling overwhelmed.

Solas nodded, coming up to inspect her work. "How does it feel Cole?" he asked.

Cole was looking at her when he answered, "Power stretching, curling, mandated, released. She felt relief, but fear because it was _real_. The guilt tasted sour, but the purpose was clear, and at the end… friend?" He looked confused but he sounded hopeful, and Jo knew instantly what he was asking.

"If you would like?" she responded, not paying Solas any mind.

Cole grinned tumultuously as he said, "Yes," and Jo couldn't help but grin at him in return. She felt ridiculously happy; she had had these moments in her previous life, but more often than not they turned out poorly. People teasing her, or people who quickly determined that being her friend had social detriments. But she trusted Cole.

Solas interrupted their moment with little remorse. "You seem to have done a satisfactory job on Cole. Now we will determine whether or not your healing powers can be used on others. Shall we make our way to the infirmary?"

"The infirmary?" Jo repeated nervously. She would need to attempt to use her uncontrolled and inconsistent magical abilities on the vulnerable sick and dying? How utterly nerve wracking.

Solas gave her a sardonic smirk. "Of course. Where else do you expect to find those in need of healing?"

Jo gave him her own version of a pout, which caused his smirk to stretch as he led the three of them out of the rotunda. Jo ate her piece of fruit as they walked across the courtyard in silence, surprised to see how active everyone was this early in the morning. A boy was washing a beautiful mare by the stables, Cassandra was hacking away at practice dummies with a sword, and a beautifully dressed seller was putting out her wares. Several minutes of stone steps later, which had Jo breathing a bit harder than she wanted to admit, they made it into the infirmary.

The surgeon got up to meet them as they came through the door. "Ah, Solas. I was expecting you. Just not this early."

Solas smiled at him as if he made it a point to enjoy inconveniencing others. "Is there someone here you think would be suitable?"

The surgeon nodded, and led the group to a small cot set up in the corner of the infirmary. On the cot lay a small girl with a bound leg and a sweaty forehead. "She was brought in here a few days ago, but her leg is rotting and I haven't managed to break the fever. Two rounds of bloodletting and an infusion of Gurgut bile has proven ineffective."

Jo turned to the surgeon in disturbed astonishment. "Bloodletting?" She had forgotten that Thedas was still utilizing the Humoral theory.

The surgeon raised a brow and sneered. "One of the most modern medical techniques we currently use. It is imperative for balancing out the humors." He turned to Solas. "You bring me someone who does not even know how to use leeches? What am I supposed to do with her?"

Jo couldn't keep the disgruntlement out of her face, and decided that perhaps she could be of some help after all. Even if she proved unable to heal, she could at least clean the wound of infection and reduce her fever with skills she learned from the first aid course she was required to take before her trip abroad. Thank the heavens for small mercies.

As she got closer to the girl, however, Jo stopped. There was something eerily familiar about her small form, and it took several moments before she was able to place it. The whispers were but echoes compared to the Fade, but she heard a recognizable sentiment and a familiar story. A little girl whose mother was ill, deathly afraid that her father would never return from war. People screaming and setting houses aflame in the night. The fear and discomfort and loneliness that seemed to pour from her small frame.

This was the same little dreamer she had come across in the Fade. The first she had helped. It seemed so long ago now, but she could still remember the lullaby she had sung. And the little girl was still alive; it seemed almost miraculous. Looking at her sweet young face Jo felt so much at that moment. Sadness, concern, and compassion. Before she knew it she was humming the melody, and then singing as she kneeled beside the cot. " _Baby sleep, gently sleep. Life is long and love is deep. Time will be, sweet for thee, all the world to see_."

She gently swiped the small sweaty forehead, gathering loose hair strands behind an ear, and slowly began to unwrap the bandage around her leg. " _Time to look about and know, how the shadows come and go. How the breeze, stirs the trees. How the blossoms grow_."

The infection was serious. A putrid smell came from the torn flesh, pus covering dead skin that was a sickly black and yellow, and Jo could see a flash of bone. She placed her hands on either side of the wound and thought about how much she cared for this child. How dearly she wanted her to recover, to take away at least one pain that she had been forced to experience in her short life. She thought about clearing the infection and knitting skin. " _Baby sleep, gently sleep. Life is long and love is deep. Just hold fast, say your plea, we will wait for thee_."

Just as it had with Cole, magic poured from her fingertips and began to pool into the wound. The girl shot awake and startled, her hands coming up in distress. Jo looked her in the eyes, smiled, and continued to sing. " _Golden slumbers kiss your eye, smiles when you arise. Play in glee, sing carefree. Reach to touch the sky_." By the time she finished the verse, the wound had closed and nary a scar remained. The little girl started crying small gasping breaths, and propelled herself into Jo's arms. Jo wrapped them around small shoulders and rubbed the girl's back in a motion that she hoped was comforting.

Jo had a very odd moment just then. It was one of those cosmic moments she rarely experienced, and didn't really hear about outside of religion or recreational drug use. She felt as if everything was falling into place- like everything that was supposed to happen was, and everything was connected. She was also overwhelmed with this sense that everything was going to be alright. The power of this faith was astounding. She turned up to the three men in bewilderment, but none of them were looking at her. Cole was looking at the girl in her arms with a small smile. His eyes then flicked up to meet hers and the smile grew.

"You made it better," he stated happily. Jo smiled back, feeling rather good about the whole thing. She then turned her attention on the other standing men in the room.

Solas and the surgeon were staring at each other, the surgeon frustrated and Solas strangely dispassionate. It took a moment for Jo to see why it was strange; his face was expressionless, but his eyes were dancing with mischief.

"You didn't tell me she was a mage," the surgeon bit out, frowning.

Solas' eyes twinkled. "We weren't sure. And I would hate to have misinformed you."

"So you were letting an untrained apostate practice on my patients?" the man sounded scandalized.

Solas' eyebrow raised. "To no small effect. Or did we interrupt your plans to save the girl?"

The surgeon scowled. Solas continued to speak, his tone breezy, as if speaking with a casual acquaintance about the weather.

"You do not mind if we continue to conduct healing lessons in here, of course? I can imagine you would appreciate the reduced workload."

"I don't suppose I have the option to refuse?"

Solas gave the man a challenging smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course you can. After you explain to the Inquisitor and her advisors that you are interfering with the training of a talented healer."

The man somehow managed to produce a skeptical sneer, which Jo thought was rather impressive. "Talented? Her? At that small demonstration? We have better healers than that already present."

Solas smile grew sharp. "That was her second ever attempt at healing. I believe there is room to grow." He then swung himself away from the surgeon so that his front was facing Jolina. "Well? Is this something you would like to be trained in?"

Jo smiled again. This was an opportunity to help. An opportunity to gain some control over herself. An opportunity to become a little more independent. "Absolutely," she stated assuredly.

"Excellent," Solas stated. "Well, come along then. What you were doing was utilizing a healing aura, but learning specific techniques could greatly reduce the amount of mana you spend. I have a few books in my rooms that might be of interest to you…" Jolina gave the girl a farewell kiss on her forehead as the elf led the two out the door, giving the Surgeon a cheeky backwards wave as they left the infirmary.

* * *

That night Jolina desperately wanted to visit some of her friends from the Fade. She was so proud of herself, and she wanted to share her success. As she stood in the familiar space, she willed some of her friends to come find her. Wisdom and Faith showed up after several minutes, and she grinned at them.

They had been happy to hear of her experiences. Faith touched her cheek, looking proud, before floating away. Wisdom had stayed, although she looked slightly distressed.

"Jo," she said, "you need to be careful. While you were here we were able to avoid demons for the most part because there were so many of us protecting you. But by yourself you attract their attention. Your decision to become a healer is wonderful, but that will also make you more susceptible. Ask Solas for help, but you need to learn how to protect yourself."

Jo felt as if someone had dumped cold water over her head. Demons? She knew they were there, but… what could they do to her? She had acknowledged the risks beforehand, of course, but she had never felt in danger. So, being here was not safe? Her familiar Fade? Would they try to possess her?

Jo's worry grew, but Wisdom just pulled her into a hug, and gestured a few feet away. Jo looked up to see a familiar bald elf, watching them with crossed arms and a curious look on his face.

Jo squeezed Wisdom's hand and approached him. "So, demons?" she stated awkwardly, hands fiddling with the thread at the hem of her tunic.

Solas snorted. "I take it you were suitably chastised?"

Jo nodded. She heard the man sigh.

"One step at a time," he said, looking a little exasperated with her meek attitude. "While you are here with me you needn't worry about demons. After we have developed your skills as a healer, we can look into recognizing a demon's intentions, as you have already proven adept at recognizing them. Hopefully you can continue to avoid their attention."

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, or any lyrics composed by James Newton Howard in his soundtrack of The Village.**

 **A/N: An extra long chapter to make up for the last one! Please let me know what you think.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Liminality**

Chapter 7: To Train

* * *

Jolina realized that she had no real basis for comparison for intensity, because over the next few weeks every new week proved to be most intense of her life.

Apparently Commander Cullen had been very skeptical of her participation in the exercises with the recruits, and had only allowed it on the condition that a Templar be present. She had showed up in her light leather, shivering from the cold, and had nervously ignored the armored man in the corner as they began to warm up. She was given a sword and shield, and they were set to block and parry in pairs. It was an effective exercise; simple in concept due to the repetitive motion, but difficult in execution because her opponent was a heavily muscled 200-pound former farmer. His strikes jarred her shield hard enough that her entire frame shook from the impact, and she had to constantly widen her stance so that she didn't fall over.

But overall the training was good.

The first week was awful- her entire body was in a constant state of muscle ache, and it took an entire week of disgruntled groans and hushed complaints for an exasperated Solas to force her to take some infusion of elfroot. Which helped greatly. Jo was so sincere in her thanks, in fact, that Solas had shown her how to create the concoction, just so she would stop her awkward, bumbling attempts at thankfulness.

The first week of her training in other weapons was also rather rocky. Varric had decided that attempts with a bow could wait until the muscles in her arms were no longer in pain, and took control of her training with daggers. Luckily for Jo, techniques with a dagger had translated the best from the Fade due to the heavy reliance on stance and footwork. However, it also required an agility that was beyond her, so Varric had started a running regime as well as work with what looked like a rudimentary pommel horse. At first she could only run for ten minutes before she began to slow and her breath began to stagger. By the end of the week she was at least breathing correctly, and she lasted fifteen minutes without stopping.

The easiest part of this week had been her work with Solas. It took a slightly difficult drawn-out conversation for him to understand her process, and then he began to utilize healing as a way for Jo to recognize and become familiar with her magic. By the end of the week, Jo was no longer feeling overwhelmed when she felt a rush of energy pooling in her forearms. It was also pleasant to work in the infirmary, the arrogant surgeon notwithstanding. The little girl, whom Jo learned was named Juliana, had taken to following her around, which Jo thought was incredibly endearing.

The second week was better than the first. The pain was easier to manage, which allowed her to utilize more strength. The trainers for the recruits also introduced new exercises that incorporated side-stepping and ducking alongside parrying and simple blocking. By the end of everyday Jo's thighs burned from maintaining a crouching position for so long, and Jo had taken to massaging her legs at the end of every day. Cole watched this new ritual curiously, and Jo wondered if he had ever suffered from sore muscles. What had it been like for him to become corporal? Was it a painful process?

In the second week Varric introduced Jo to the pommel horse looking thing. At first he just required that she hang there, suspended up by her arms, but he eventually asked her to swing her legs back and forth in every direction. The upper arm strength required to maintain this level of control was surprising (Jo saw one of Leliana's scouts using it, and it looked so easy). Fortunately for her, Varric managed not to laugh _too_ loudly the few times she fumbled as her strength gave out. She was successfully running twenty minutes straight, however, so Jo rationalized this week a success.

Now that Jo could recognize her magic, Solas thought it important to understand the theories behind magical application in order to enforce some level of control and technique. He gave her several texts, which she had taken to reading during lunch. In theory the information was simple; barriers and glyphs were put in place to prevent damage, healing auras were used to treat a generalizable area, and more specific healing spells could heal damage, and rejuvenate or regenerate energy. Actually putting this theory into practice was much more difficult, oddly because healing was so easy for her to accomplish intuitively. Solas had asked Jo to perform a specific healing spell on a man in the infirmary, but the moment she touched him, her magic poured unbidden and removed the ailment.

Solas had pulled her aside afterwards and attempted to get Jo to understand the importance of casting these spells. It could be used to augment and conserve her abilities, and was a more efficient use of mana. If she were to be in a battle that necessitated healing multiple party members, she needed to operate more conservatively with her mana in order to ensure everyone was healed. Jo had expressed that she understood his point (and she really did), but she had no idea how to go about ensuring this level of control.

By the third week, Jo spent a good twenty minutes at the start and end of every day stretching, which helped a great deal. She could have kicked herself for not thinking of stretching beforehand, but in her defense, she had not been a very athletic child. She also _felt_ stronger. It was easier to strike and block, and she was finally getting to the point where the fundamentals she had learned in the Fade were assisting her in her efforts to gain skill. She was assigned a different partner to spar with, and had actually managed to gain some headway with the young man because her footwork was faster, which guided her body effectively through the different offensive and defensive techniques they were using.

It was at the end of this week that Jo made it a point to meet Commander Cullen in person to thank him for his assistance, reluctant thought it might be. She had come up to his tent and caught him as he was just getting up. He looked extremely discomforted by her presence, as well as that of Cole's, who had trailed through the courtyard behind her.

"Commander Cullen? Might I have a word?"

He looked between the two of them with a stern frown and nodded.

"I would just like to thank you for allowing me to train with your troops. I understand that this is a privilege, and you have plenty of justification to be wary. I grew up without having magic, so this… transition has been difficult. I promise I am working on it. Still, I am extremely thankful you didn't tell the recruits about the nature of your concerns. I understand they have a prejudice against mages."

He looked surprised, and then considering. "It was as much for their benefit as it was for yours."

"I understand. But I am still thankful."

He nodded absentmindedly, and then looked away, rubbing the back of his neck in thought. "I heard you have been learning healing magic?"

Jo smiled. "Yes. And as far as I know, I am incapable of any other kind."

Cullen's eyes shot back to hers in surprise. "Really? I know mages specialize, but I thought that was because they chose a route. Not that they were incapable."

Jo shrugged. "I would have no idea. You probably have had more interaction with magic than I have."

Cullen frowned. "Where are you from?"

Jo had a wry smile. "Not Thedas. Another world, which apparently is connected at the Fade."

"And in this world…"

"No magic."

Jo had no idea how to decipher the look on his face. "I see," Cullen stated in a halting manner, and Jo realized that it might be better to cut this conversation and run. Give him time to think? Although Lord only knows how he thought of her at this point. Suicidal, prone to hysteria, and mad off her rocks?

"Well, thank you for taking the time to talk to me. Have a good day." She had spun, grabbed Cole's arm, and frog-marched the two of them away awkwardly.

That afternoon Jo was mildly surprised to see Cullen during a sparring event put on for the recruits to evaluate what information was sticking, and what exercise techniques needed to be repeated. Although maybe she shouldn't be? She remembered Cullen interacting pretty heavily with the recruits in the game at Haven, but thought that since their move to Skyhold, Cullen had taken a more administrative role out of necessity. There were a lot of men to coordinate.

When she had been called up to the sparring ring, she had been thankful for the time she spent training with her first beast of a partner. Her opponent had a similar build, and used his sword and shield like a tank. She was at least a foot shorter, her frame slender, and she knew she would have to use a strong stance when defending, all of the momentum of turning of body when striking, and coordinated footwork to dodge when appropriate in order to get anywhere with the man. That was something she was still struggling with, actually; determining when it was more appropriate to dodge or shield. They both used energy.

Her practice had paid off, as the stamina she was gaining through her runs carried her through a majority of his attacks. The spar came to a head when blocking his strike had taken enough energy that he was able to cuff her head with the edge of his shield before she could move. Her vision swam for a second and she clenched her teeth through the pain, before using that as an opportunity to take advantage of the fact that he had let his guard down. Feeling blood drip down her forehead, she blinked in time counting… and then quickly propelled herself forward, using her shield to turn him so she was facing his back, and then it was a side kick to the spine, and her sword at his neck as he tumbled forward onto his hands and knees.

There had been applause, and she looked up to see Cullen with a raised brow as he stood nearby, a hand casually resting on the hilt of his blade. Jo raised a brow in return. Glancing to the side she saw Cassandra frown in disapproval. Jo sighed. What was she supposed to do about any of this?

Varric had heard about her victory when she met him in the armory later that day.

"I heard about your success, Peaches! We should celebrate. I'm thinking ale?"

Jo immediately became suspicious. "What kind of ale?" She had made the mistake of accepting Dwarven Ale sometime last week, and Jo swore the alcohol would have been fit to strip wood tarnish.

Varric grinned. "Whatever you will drink. But this deserves alcohol. Did you see the look on Cassandra's face?"

"Yes." Jo felt her face fall. Did the woman really dislike her that much? It's not as if she could control whether or not she had magic.

"She was obviously conflicted. I mean, here you are, an untrained mage with strange abilities and questionable origins, but at the ring? You were a woman who persevered through the pain, who kept a cool head, who defeated a much stronger opponent. Something she admires. She obviously can't make sense of the two." Varric seemed delighted at this inner turmoil apparently experienced by the resident Seeker.

Jo was surprised. She hadn't been able to feel that conflict- perhaps because she had been so far away? Although she was getting better at controlling the influx of emotions to some extent, or at least ignoring it and trying not to let it influence her own. Maybe she was becoming too reliant on this strange ability of hers?

"Sure. Let's celebrate," she acquiesced with a resigned smile, which Varric had returned with an approving nod.

They got to the archery range, and Jo got out her bow and quiver full of arrows. He had finally decided to let her attempt to use a bow, her muscles no longer constantly burning. And with the strength she had been building in her arms and shoulders, this practice was far more productive than the last.

Now that she could keep the arrow even as it was notched and released, aim became the name of the game. She spent a couple of hours experimenting with the relationship between distance and the strength of her pull, as well as the relationship between where she positioned the bow, and where the arrow landed. It was… fun. Notching the arrow back to graze her jaw, taking a deep breath- the tension familiar, the release powerful. It felt an awful lot like magic, actually.

Jo knew intuitively that in order for her to make any strides, she would need a great deal of practice. She would have little time in the battlefield to aim, so that and power needed to be something she could adjust without conscious thought.

Varric offered a few pointers, but by and large left her to experiment by herself. After Varric decided she had done enough for today, she jogged a few laps around the keep, happy at how easy it was. She left Varric then to meet Solas in the rotunda, promising to meet the dwarf later.

Walking in Jo could see the elf bent over the table positioned in the middle of the room, reading a tome. His eyes snapped up to hers when he heard her approach, and straightened. "Ah, Jolina. Just in time."

He continued to speak as he stood. "It occurred to me that there are certain exercises we can focus on that are aimed at improving control and mana replenishment. Hopefully these skills will translate as you attempt healing spells."

Jo nodded tiredly. She was rather exhausted after a day full of physical activity, and the feeling of drying sweat between her shoulder blades was not pleasant. Hopefully all of these practices could be accomplished sitting down?

"Have you meditated before?"

Oh, thank God... She nodded. But wait, what if he was talking about a different kind of meditation than the one she attempted on Earth?

"Excellent. Then you know that the first step is to establish a sense of mindfulness by clearing your mind. This enforces discipline and focus, and you will need both if you intend to gain any control over your mana."

Again, Jo nodded. That sounded familiar. Alright. She could do this.

"Cole?" Solas called out, and Jo watched with bemusement as the blonde rogue got up from the couch and walked towards them. She hadn't noticed he was there. "I called Cole in here to ensure that you are clearing your mind. He will inform me if you are not."

Tartar sauce. Jo actually had a rather busy mental space, and found it hard to calm that space without music. But she could try, yes? Who knows- maybe her time spent in the Fade might have changed something? But she felt too much apprehension to be hopeful.

Solas led them outside into the courtyard, and found a shaded grassy spot that was devoid of people. They sat facing each other. "For now, just breath."

Jo attempted to do just that, but it was much harder to synchronize her breathing when she wasn't exercising. She felt like she was breathing in either too little, or too much air. Focusing on it created this uncomfortable awareness, and it was almost like she forgot how to do it correctly if she had to think too much about it.

After a couple of minutes, which were rather fascinating for Jo because she could see the elf's muscles relax (was he always so tense?), Solas stated, "Now attempt to empty your mind. You are nothing more than a series of breaths in a space. Your limbs and torso are weightless. You are like air. You do not need to think about existing. You just need to inhabit the space."

Jo tried, she really did. But her brain decided that now would be a good time to consider philosophical existentialism.

"Cole?" Solas stated, and Jo sat with growing horror as Cole repeated, verbatim, all of the things that were going through her mind.

"Isn't there a danger to forgetting about my existence? As far as I know, my reality is the only true reality because I can't be separated from my perspective. Which allows the possibility that nothing really exists outside of myself, or that this is all a figment of my imagination. Although could I really consider myself so adept as to have created all of this? Probably not. In any case, if I don't acknowledge or deny my existence, will I continue to exist? For that matter, is existing merely inhabiting a space? Or is it something more? Does my consciousness or my physical presence demand an existence? And does a consciousness need to have a will and a purpose, or are imprints of a memory or emotion enough to warrant that state? After all, the ghosts in the Fade were like echoes, without a body or purpose or self-awareness, yet they _existed_. Or perhaps, only to me? In which case, existence only takes place through the acknowledgment of said existence by others? In which case, if there no one around, do you really exist? But how do you consider this debate with any kind of intellectual backing because nothing in the world is truly objective-"

"Jolina," Solas scolded.

"Oh my, he looks rather unhappy. I am sorry. I have always had a hard time clearing my mind. I am so busy thinking of things that need to be thought about, that my mind seems to enjoy considering things I don't need to think about when it has the time. Does that mean I need to set aside time both to think about things I need to and things I don't need to before my mind will settle? How lovely it would be to live longer than eighty years. I'm not sure I have the time necessary to accomplish that."

The elf crossed his arms and seemed to purse his lips in an irritated fashion. "Jolina! The purpose of this exercise is to stop thinking. Not to think more."

"And now he looks upset. Goodness. He was the one who decided to invade the privacy of my thoughts using Cole. _Using_ him. I hate to be _used_. I wonder if Cole hates it too? Tragic Cole left to die alone in the dark pit of the white tower. Fuck people. But I do so admire his perseverance. It is hard to be compassionate when you are being judged. Just because they don't understand the logic of his actions, they have to criticize and blame. And they don't understand _him_ , so there is fear and hatred. I feel it when he walks with me around the courtyard and in the reception hall. It is not fair. Although I know life isn't fair. I know people can be like this to anyone they decide to _otherize_. They all used to think I was a freak, too. Although sometimes they used the word weird. Or intense. But always attached to a too, so it's basically the same thing. People suck, but I can't help but love them. I must be doomed to an unhappy existence."

Solas stood with a snarl, looking frustrated and upset, his hands curled into fists and held tightly by his side.

"He really does look like Fen'Harel when he does that. It's the snarl, I think. I don't mean to frustrate him, really… I just don't feel comfortable saying this all out loud, and so I have to contend with letting it out in my head, and… good Lord he just said that out loud. Cole, my lovely, new friend Cole, please stop talking? I don't want him to hurt me. Please stop, please, please, please… Or you for that matter. Please, please, please, please, please, please, I hope no one else heard that-"

"Cole! Stop it," Solas bit out, and Jo could feel a twinge of Cole's hurt. If Jo thought Solas had looked upset before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now. His eyes were frigid and narrowed as they locked with hers, and Jo couldn't stop herself from squealing as she propelled herself to her feet and darted a few steps to hide behind Cole. She could feel another wave of irritation, frustration, confusion, anger, and _fear_ roll off the elf, and Jo gripped the back of Cole's shirt overwhelmed. Oh, God. Oh, Lordy. What was he going to do to her now? Would he kill her? Would she die? She should have tried harder. She should have- Solas was hurt. Underneath all of his other emotions she felt the pain. Why? Remembered grievances? Her lack of faith?

"Does she ever stop thinking?" Solas asked Cole, and he seemed to be taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

Cole turned to look at her, and then back at Solas. "No. Even when she's sleeping."

"Is it always so…." Solas couldn't seem to find the right word.

"Yes."

Solas let out a big sigh. "Jolina." It was said in a hard, commanding voice. Jo peeked out from behind Cole warily.

"Yes?"

"Come here." His tone broke no room for argument.

Jo could feel that this was one of those big decisions that could drastically alter the course of her life. That how she chose to handle this question could have a big impact on her relationships with the people in this space. Still feeling apprehensive, but concerned about his pain, Jo stepped out from behind Cole and shuffled in front of the elf.

"How long have you known?"

Jo knew what he was asking. "Since I first saw you in the Fade?" Technically true. She had no idea he really existed before that very moment.

"And you know what I intend to do?"

Jo remembered. And frowned. She had been rather upset after playing Trespasser. That an individual as old and bright as Solas truly believed that remaking the world, again, would go as intended… That was the definition of insane, yes? To attempt the same thing again and again, while expecting a different result? "Eliminate the Veil. But I don't believe it will work out like you want it to."

Solas' eyes flashed, and his mouth turned down in irritation, but otherwise he ignored her comment. "Do you intend to tell anyone?"

Jo felt her lips purse. "No. I'm like Cole. I intend to keep everyone's secrets."

Solas' frown deepened, and he turned to Cole. "She knows?"

Cole nodded.

Solas sighed. "Well, apparently we are going to have to attempt a different approach. Although this might explain why you have been experiencing difficulties prior. I need some time. We will speak tomorrow?"

"Alright." Jo murmured. She watched Solas stride away, and turned towards Cole.

She bit her lip anxiously. "I'm so sorry Cole. I made him upset, but that made you upset too."

Cole looked solemn. "It's okay, Jo. You didn't mean to."

"Unintended consequences still hurt, though." Jo felt a mishmash of remorse, apprehension, confusion and fear. She looked down at the ground, chuffed at the dirt with her boot in frustration, before looking back at Cole.

He looked so sad. Oh. Jo couldn't stop herself from trotting over to him and grabbing his hand. She had no idea what to say, or how to apologize for what she was thinking. She just… hoped he could feel her sentiment.

"It's okay, Jo," Cole repeated. Jo gave him a small smile, clutching the bit of warmth and skin.

* * *

Dinner was an interesting affair. What was originally planned as a night of revelry and mild debauchery quickly turned into an embarrassing mess. Jo discovered that she was just starting her monthlies, but she was apprehensive about how to go about the… intricacies without causing Cole to worry. Although would he worry?

She asked Cole to stay with Varric while she went to visit the surgeon, who reluctantly gave her some rags, but… surely she was making something of nothing? She resolved to go back to the tavern, drink an ale, and forget about the whole thing. Which is exactly how it went.

Before Cole decided to ask why she was troubled in typical Cole fashion.

"Jo? There's a new knot. Sticky, wet, red, dripping in clumps, embarrassment in bloody rags… Why is bleeding embarrassing?"

Jo felt her face redden as everyone at their table quieted.

"Ah, Kid?" Varric started to say.

Cole looked genuinely confused. "But doesn't everyone bleed?"

Varric had a light blush of his own as he tried to explain, "Yeah, but it's different for women…"

"Why?"

Blackwall was the next to intercede, and Jo was amused to see he was also blushing. "Women have to bleed sometimes… down there… in order to have babies."

Cole nodded, which made his large hat flap a bit. "Yes, but… why is that embarrassing?"

Varric looked confused. "It's… not?"

"Then why is everyone so embarrassed?"

They all looked at each other, before Jo decided to step in. She was sure her face was completely red, but she ignored it the best she could. "It's been stigmatized, Cole. It makes men uncomfortable because it is messy and different from their own experience, and it makes women uncomfortable because they feel forced to make it this secretive thing. And religious texts often paint it as dirty and defiling. Older civilizations in my world actually used to quarantine women away from society during that time."

The Iron Bull must have been listening, because he felt the need to stumble over to their table. "The Qun does not think of that kind of blood as dirty. It is considered natural and necessary. Just like sex."

Sweet baby Jesus, the man was huge. He was also thrumming with both wariness and curiosity. "So, other world? That sounds interesting."

Jo had to stop herself from snorting. His tone almost made it sound like a pick-up line. "Qunari society sounds interesting," she offered. And it did. From what little she remembered, the Qun operated as both a moral code, and a source of instruction shaping the structure of society and its government. It would be interesting to hear about a culture in which a singular text governed so much of society- after all, Jo came from a country that operated under the idea of "separation of church and state".

"Well, maybe sometime we could share?"

Jo frowned. Was he purposely trying to make everything he say sound provocative?

"Maybe," she offered with a bland smile, feeling a little uncomfortable at his size and attention. She unconsciously scooted just a bit closer to Cole, but didn't realize it until she saw the Ben-Hassrath zero in on the action. He frowned in consideration.

"Do you plan on joining us?" Varric asked, and Jo could hear the challenge in that invitation.

The Iron Bull smiled. "Nah, Krem and I are having a drinking contest. Anyone want to participate?" Was it just her, or was he looking at her when he said that?

Varric and Blackwall looked like they were seriously considering it, which prompted Jo to stand and excuse herself. "I hope you guys have fun. Have a good night." Cole stood next to her, prepared to follow her.

"Aw, come on Peaches. Can't handle a little bit of alcohol?" the dwarf teased.

Jo looked him in the eye. "You have no idea how excited I am to bathe right now. And I've held off long enough."

"Fair enough," Varric acquiesced, before adding, "But you don't need Cole for that, right? Or do you?"

Jo colored and pouted in irritation. "No. I don't."

Varric grinned. He got way too much enjoyment out of teasing her. "So, Kid, you want to try your hand at drinking?"

Cole frowned, still standing awkwardly, and Jo fairly glared at the man. Was he suggesting what she thought he was?

"I don't eat or drink, Varric."

"But that doesn't mean you can't, right? Just give it a shot."

The blonde rogue frowned, obviously unsure, but eventually nodded his head. "Alright." He sat back down.

Varric smiled at him encouragingly. "Attaboy."

Jo frowned unhappily. And then made her way around the table to get in the dwarf's face. "No funny business," she stated fiercely, before spinning on her heel and striding out of the tavern. She heard Varric repeat, "Funny business?", sounding confused, but Jo forced herself to keep walking.

The shared bathing room was blissfully empty, and Jo took her time scrubbing off all of the dirt that had accumulated during the day, and then soaking in the glyph-heating water. It felt fantastic on her sore muscles. And she just really enjoyed feeling clean. Maybe as a result of the over-emphasis of hygiene prominent in her culture? She wiggled her toes, ignoring the pruning taking place at the tips.

She guessed at least an hour had passed before she made it back to the tavern with the intention of turning in for the night.

Walking in she could hear a group of men singing in a drunken chorus. Looking over at their table she could see Blackwall was passed out, his form slumped ungracefully over the table-top, and Varric seemed to be swaying as he told a story, gesturing wildly with his arms. Cole sat between them, his hat missing, his cheeks more than a little red, and a huge grin on his face. Oh. That was cute… Well at least he seemed to be a happy drunk.

Jo headed up the stairs and entered their room. She removed her tunic, which she had worn over her tank top and leggings, and crawled into bed. Her legs hurt, but she wasn't sure she had the energy to massage them tonight. It felt like too much work.

The door opened while she was still thinking about it, and Cole, still hatless, ambled his way into the room. The way he closed the door made it look like an accident, and he began to strip his light armor and his shirt as he made his way closer to the bed.

Well, this was new. He had never taken off his clothes in front of her before. She couldn't stop herself from evaluating what she could see of his torso. Lean, and covered in scars, but the muscle was taut. Nice.

After which Jo felt ridiculous and slightly guilty for checking her friend out while he was clearly out of his mind with drink… "I don't mind," he stated, and Jo felt herself blush. She wondered if her cheeks were as red as his were now. Still…

She was in for another surprise as Cole climbed under the covers next to her, and then began massaging her legs for her. She started to protest, but he stopped her. "You're hurt. Let me help." And it did help. He seemed to use his gift to adjust until he was pressing with just the right amount of pressure. Where did he learn how to do that? She couldn't stop from groaning.

"Jo?"

"Hm?"

"Do you like my hat?"

What? Jo sat up and attempted to see Cole's face in the dark. "Your hat?"

He giggled. Jo assumed it was because of her expression. "Dorian said that if I wanted to be handsome I should change my hat. Although Varric doesn't mind it. He says it keeps the attention off my other flaws."

Jo felt a brow raise. They had these kind of discussions? "Well, I like the hat." She really did. It suited him. "Do you want to be handsome?"

"Yes. Do you think I'm handsome?"

"Yes," she stated quietly. She was thankful for the dark, because she was sure she was blushing again.

She could see the blonde rogue smile, though. "Thank you, Jo."

Jo nodded, although she wasn't sure Cole could see the movement. How good was his eyesight? She wondered if he thought she was pretty. Although what did pretty mean to him? She suspected he had a different understanding of the concept than she did.

"You are pretty, Jo. That boy didn't mean it. He liked the way the sun made your eyes look like the sea, but his friends were nearby. He liked them more."

Jo froze. She hadn't been consciously thinking of that, had she? She didn't like remembering about it, in any case. The boy in question had been rather mean.

"I made it worse. I'm sorry Jo. I can try again…"

"No, Cole," she stated, before taking a deep breath. "You are my friend. So whether you think I am pretty matters more. He doesn't matter."

"But it still hurts? The knot snags when you look in the mirror, and you wonder if anyone will ever think differently."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then that is all that matters."

Silence for several minutes, and then, "Jo? My head feels… numb. Like my fingers feel in the snow. Is my head cold?"

Jo giggled, and reaching out to touch his forehead. Warm. Not that she was expecting anything different. "You're drunk, sweetie."

"Sweetie…" he repeated the endearment happily, smiling again.

"Mmhm. Have you ever tasted anything sweet?"

Jo could see several of the blonde strands become highlighted by the moon as it came out from behind the clouds. The strands then shook from side to side in denial.

"Well, I am going to make you a cinnamon bun. To thank you for being such a great friend."

"I don't eat."

"I know. But would you be willing to try it? For me?"

Another pause. "Will it taste like Ale? I don't think I like Ale."

"Not at all."

"Okay Jo."

Jo sighed happily, and made her way back under the covers. Cole followed her actions and laid down beside her. Cold, she scooted over to the rogue's side, and put her head hesitantly on his shoulder. Oh, he was _warm_ … This close to his face she could see he looked surprised, but instead of freezing, he nuzzled his head into hers with a smile. He then put his hand on her head and began to pet her in a familiar movement. She playfully nipped at his fingers, and he broke out in a fit of giggles.

He really was warm… She meant to say goodnight, but passed out before the words could come out of her mouth.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or any of its affiliates.**

 **A/N: So... my original plans for this dinner kind of derailed... Thank you so much for your reviews! They encourage me to write more.**


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